CMBlack: Eyes of an Owl
by Vindicated Soldiers
Summary: Cassy Black had low hopes for her fifth-year following Voldemort's revival. The Order wanted her to know little and the new Defense teacher was to teach them nothing at all. With Harry leading a secret army and Cassy fighting to support her beliefs, she did not have time for her infuriating cousins, or for petty rivalries. Yet, somehow emotions still run high in love and hate.
1. The house where she grew up

C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl

**Chapter I: The house where she grew up**

Five days after the end of term, Alphard was cremated. His body was on show for what seemed like forever; his hands clasping one another across his chest, his eyes peacefully closed. July 3rd was a day that Cassy would forever mark on her calender and one that would never need to be; she would always remember the date. In fifty-years, when her mind may have slowed and her wit was blunter, she would know the day each and every year following.

The only flower to be placed on the coffin was hers. No one else even attempted to invade the space. It was not white for Alphard had always found the colour bland, but instead a deep purple. It had been his favourite and the colour of his tie that she had chosen for him to remain in, his last outfit that she had spent time choosing, hours of her day staring and never touching. It seemed wrong to rummage through his belongings, because they were still his, but in the end, she folded up a grey suit with his purple tie and cuff links and handed them to the funeral director without another word.

The varnished wood of the casket vanished behind the curtain. The unwelcome reflection of the gleaming sun had disappeared and suddenly it was as if there was no light at all. The curtain was thick and solid, taking Alphard from them definitely, completely, unable to return at last. As the first sounds of the piano rang through the hall, any hopes of Alphard suddenly waking, no matter how small and ridiculous, vanished.

Cassy had sat at the front, as near to the coffin as anyone was willing to let her. Beside her was Tonks. Her hair had not changed in colour, frozen oddly at mousy brown for all the days that had passed. It was longer though, tied up in a neat knot that looked starkly contrasting to her usual spikes. Her dress was dark and long, much like Cassy's own. On her other side had stood her parents and Cassy had never quite fathomed that day why they had made an appearance. Edward, Tonks' father who was more affectionately referred to as Ted, had never met Alphard since his wedding to Andromeda. His brown eyes stared sadly at the coffin, contorting the wrinkles he had gained from many eager smiles that lines his eyes. His wife, looking every bit the woman Cassy had thought she would be with her dark hair and eyes, far taller than her daughter and a thin frame that all the Black women seemed to inherit. She had not seen Alphard for years either and Alphard had never expressed much fondness for her beyond the default kind, the type one would always have for family that was somewhat estranged.

Beside Cassy, his hand rapped tightly around her own by his own accord, was Neville. He and his Grandmother had spent many hours arranging the funeral with Cassy and Tonks. It was she who spoke to the companies and arranged the service and it was Neville who had sat with Cassy for hours in utter silence, yet never leaving her side in case she should want for something. Mrs Longbottom was grieving silently throughout. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she did not whimper or shake. She was too well versed in it, having grieved for years over the loss of her son and his young wife without ever having physically lost them. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her where she stood beside her grandson.

Cassy wept. She had been silent, with tears that streaked down her pale cheeks and onto the dry grass below. She had been surprised she could even muster them any more for she had not cried at all since the night he had died. No tears would surface, even as her eyes had burnt dully every moment of every day since. Behind her, people were much less composed. The shire amount of people who had attended had been astounding. His old friends, his new friends, his work colleagues and their neighbours had all come out despite lack of personal invitation. Cassy had been very selective who she actually asked to attend and beyond that a notice was placed in the Daily Prophet noting the time and place. It seemed it had not gone unnoticed.

Hands were shaken all day. Person after person approached Cassy to offer their own consoling words, words that simply repeated the last person, wishing her well and expressing how they had all lost a great man. Cassy had not even known who half of the people were. Amongst the well wishers had been a select few who had given her cards with their names on, stating that if she ever needed anything when she grew to let them know. Stories of how they owed him a lot and how it was the least they could do for him; Cassy wanted to demand to know where they had been when he was alive and where they had been when he was dying. She held her tongue. The cards had been crumpled during the reception as she minced them between her fingers under the table in a overwhelming desire to escape. They had been stuffed in the compartment beneath her jewellery box that night though.

The cremation had been beautiful. Cassy had made a speech and she had hated every minute of it. She said things she had never even told Alphard himself and it seemed so wrong to be telling them to other people, people who meant nothing at all to her. She was the final one to speak. Alphard's oldest friend, his best, he might have said, who had been with him since he was eleven years old went first. His colleague who he had ran the company closely with for many years had been next. Neither had produced quite as many tears as Cassy had. It seemed there was something about a child making a speech of a dead loved one that produced many ugly sobs around the room. She could not meet anyone's eye. She stared at the back of the hall the entire time.

There was one place in the room that she dreaded to see more than the eyes of anyone present, because looking at that spot meant acknowledging who was not. Three empty seats sat on the other side of the isle to her chair. She and Alphard had always had a little family in the past few years. His cousins had passed quickly and suddenly and all at once, leaving only him and Ignatius alive. He sat beside the empty seats and said nothing of them. He too knew who should have been there. Even as the hall had filled to its maximum capacity, Cassy had refused to let anyone take them. It was only when the service started did she let the anxiety that had been boiling beneath the surface all week finally bubble into rage.

The Malfoy family had never shown.

Cassy refused to cry for them. In her mind, it was as though they did not even exist on that day. Her anger soon stopped her tears. Alphard had been family, close family to them, he had taken care of Draco as Narcissa had for her. Even if Narcissa and Alphard had had their differences in the past year, he would still have wanted her there and if not for him then Narcissa should have made an effort to appear for her, at least. They were supposed to be family. They were supposed to be the family that did not care for her blood or her House placement, the second unconditional love she had besides Alphard; they had not even sent her a letter.

It was indisputable in her mind from then on that the Malfoy family had chosen Voldemort. While stubbornness was in their blood, an undeniably strong trait of the family, Cassy refused to believe that Narcissa could be so stubborn that she would ignore such an event for a petty reason. Once since his death she had contacted Cassy. It was to ask her to live with them and while Cassy had reluctantly explained she could not, the choices had been made and the arrangements finalised, she never received a letter back. The time and energy she had poured into it was wasted. There was not a single sound back from them and so Cassy could not understand why she had dared to hope they might still show to the funeral. That was being hopeful beyond reason. She may as well have been waiting for a miracle and Cassy did not believe in those.

The anger she carried with her was constant and deep burning. It failed to leave her in the days that followed and served only as a reminder of what transpired. Relentlessly, it crept up on her through her days, churning her stomach and making the food turn uncomfortably, or to force her to grip what she was holding so tightly it was ruined, parchment crumpled needlessly, raw lines from the metal cutlery etched into her hands before she abandoned efforts to eat all together. It was on those days that Tonks would stay up late with her and microwave strange pots of food for the pair of them to eat. They had a distinct flavour that Tonks insisted was on all microwaved foods, although she could not tell her why.

It was a week later that Cassy began a mass clean up of her old home. It had been left to her in the will, everything had, bar a substantial sum of money for Tonks to care for Cassy's upkeep in the following years, which she had tried to give back, and some money and items for Alphard's close friends. The house, everything remaining in it, and the rest of his wealth was hers. It was odd, thought Cassy, because right then, as she sifted through stacks of paper, she would rather have been as poor as the Weasley's if it meant having him standing beside her, telling her to stop complaining.

Her eyes were dry. They had remained so and ached and throbbed each and every time she blinked, but she hardly noticed it any more. The new irritant that stung them she blamed on the dust. It had been many months since she had entered her bedroom. Her portraits and pictures were thick with dust. Plum and Kitsy had been no where to be seen for a long while, not until she finally dared calling them one night long after Tonks had gone to bed. She did not want them to touch anything. Cassy wanted to collect what she could, salvage and put into storage what remained, and throw out very little. She did not want anything of value, sentiment or otherwise, passing her by.

The photographs of her friends she had tacked on the wall over the years had all come down. They were slotted into a box along with her ornaments and a sample of her favourite books. The portraits of animals and scenery still hung. She had no need for them and no room. They covered nearly all the room of the wall her bed rested on. Then again, her new room at Tonks' flat was blank, but Cassy was not sure she wanted to remove too much from her childhood home. She could not bare the thought of it empty.

The plants that littered her desk and windowsill had wilted and yellowed from neglect, although Cassy had little desire to revive them. She had all ready collected a tiny purple plant from the living room that had sat in the window for as long as she could remember; it had always flowered through November. She was only to take was she needed. The rest would be cared for by her house-elves and while she knew that, it was difficult to leave anything behind. The more she sifted through the more she had packed, things she had not touched in many years had become genuinely difficult to discard. Cassy was not someone of great sentiment, tradition she would admit to, but sentiment was something she had never valued highly. Yet suddenly everything meant something to her.

Downstairs had been left to Tonks' discretion. With instructions to pack anything that was not food into boxes for relocation, Cassy had left it to her. Not long after they had began, the doorbell rang, startling Cassy and making Tonks jump if the broken plate was anything to go by. She had listened carefully to the voices that rang through the silent halls. Andromeda and Edward had arrived to lend a hand at Tonks' request. Cassy did not really want them touching her uncle's belongings, but she did not stop them. They were both perfectly pleasant people. Andromeda was warm to her family and Edward was always smiling. He was a lot like Tonks, cheerful although somewhat air-headed. Andromeda was smart and calculating, but distant to Cassy. Cassy could not muster the energy to care though. Andromeda made it inadvertently clear she was only there for Tonks and Cassy was fine with that. She could resent Cassy for invading her neat little family, or for burdening Tonks with the responsibility of care of another at such a young age; Cassy did not care what it was. Whatever made her incapable of saying more than a civil 'good morning' to her was her own business.

Scraping sounded from beneath her. The tables and chairs in the kitchen were being reshuffled once again and Cassy was quite desperate to see what it was they were doing. Instead, she picked up the second box of her belongings and moved them into the hall. Most of her clothes had been collected by Tonks when she moved in, if not all ready having been in her school trunk. She placed it beside the first and stared at the door opposite her own. Slowly, her hand rose to the handle. It clicked open softly. It did not creak, or wail as it was pushed open. It was well used and well cared for; the last thing Alphard had wanted when Cassy was a young child was alerting her to his late night work when she should have been sleeping. Cassy would have been up and out of her room before he had had a chance to sit at his desk, demanding to know what he was doing and if she could see and read over the papers she would only understand every other word of.

The study had not changed since then. The books were different, perhaps, and the shelves stocked with new potions and instruments, but the layout was the same, the furniture old and sturdy, and the photographs ever present.

Cassy looped back out of the room to collect an empty box from the pile. There were books she needed to put into storage to protect and ones she wanted to keep on hand herself. The shelves covered either side of the fireplace, punctuated by files and ornaments he had gathered from his tours around the world.

In her mind, she could hear Alphard scolding her for touching them. He would have complained he would have to spend hours reorganising them, when she knew in reality he knew their order off by heart. It would have taken him ten minutes to put everything back into place and perhaps that was why she never minded being scolded, because she knew Alphard well enough to know that when he reprimanded her it was because he felt like it was his duty to, not because he actually cared she had stepped out of line.

Another book was added to the shallow pile in the box before Cassy sunk down into his chair. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the desk, slowly slipping around the edge of an abandoned tea cup. She rubbed over the dark pattens on the pale porcelain and sighed deeply. Her attention then moved to the papers on the desk. All stacked neatly on top of one another, the papers had been set with the same care and attention they always had been. She scanned the titles of the first few pages, revealing out-dated orders for the company and letters of correspondents with colleagues. Above them sat a scroll of thick parchment. It was unsealed and next to a blank envelope. It read:

_'The various practical applications of Conjuring spells since 1850 and their weaknesses with examples'_

It was Alphard's seventh year Transfiguration homework he had never returned. He had written it for Professor Dumbledore at long last. Cassy gave a weak laugh and placed it back down in favour of the photo frame that was face down. It had always been, to her memory, flat against the desk. Beside it was a photograph of her and Alphard when she was no older than eight or nine-years-old. She was grinning up at him, sitting beside him on a wooden bench. He was smiling back down at her and the pair of them appeared to be discussing something Photograph-Cassy found most amusing. Her legs swung back and forth, no where near touching the pavement below and just barely skimming the wayward grass from the park surrounding them. A large tree stood behind them, offering scattered shade.

Cassy narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. She had never seen the photograph before and she struggled to recall a time where it might have been taken. She picked it up before righting the one beside it. Frowning, she brought it close to her face. The two people in it smiled, one grinning broadly and waving at her. A younger Alphard stared up at her a small smirk; his suit was cut and tailored to the best quality and so was the boy who stood beside him. He was about Cassy's age with hair to his mid-neck and bright, grey eyes. Her eyebrows dipped a tiny bit more as she placed it down on the desk. The small, metal clasps of the back were soon undone and the frame pulled away to reveal curling letters reading: 'Sirius and I – 1975'

Once pieced together again, Cassy plucked it up along with the other photograph and the essay and carefully squashed them amongst the books in her box. After all the time Alphard had been convinced Sirius had turned, he had still held on to one photograph of them together.

'You sentimental old man,' she mumbled fondly.

The wooden floor was hard beneath her, sending her legs numb long before she thought to stand again. She knelt in front of the lower cases of the cabinet. Alphard's previous colleagues had sent her a letter requesting she send the remaining unfinished work documents back to them. They had most all ready from Alphard's own effort, but she held a small list of missing items. Folder after folder, she peered inside and flicked through the endless sheets. Although it was not hard to understand his system, she hardly understood what the items were to contain to find them. They were projects and potions far beyond her level and if they had not asked for them then Cassy was certain she would have sifted through them all nosily before she finished Hogwarts.

At this rate I will not be able to answer Harry's call again, she thought with a sigh. She forced her hands to move even and pack. It was slow and arduous; she could no longer imagine why she had thought it would be a quick, if painful, affair.

It had become a habit to call one another in the evening. Harry would murmur to her about his relatives, complaining of another newly enforced diet and Dudley's renewed confidence with his boxing. The only night she had missed was that of Alphard's funeral. He had tried to talk several times, but the mirror was shoved under her bed and forgotten that night. The next day he had fussed.

While it was flattering that he worried, thought Cassy as she pulled at the loft hatch in the hall, it only made her feel worse and quickly he had stopped asking at the repeated pained flicker on her pale face.

Heaving a second box of books up the ladder with great effort, Cassy huffed as it slid noisily away from the hatch. Suddenly, her idea of hiding things there in case of burglary in her absence seemed like too much effort to sustain. She peered around in surprise. Alphard was not sentimental, but there were many boxes in his loft. Hoisting herself up, she perched precariously of the edge of the hatch. Half-heartedly, she pulled the closest box to her and wiped the thick dust from the top.

'Sirius,' she read quietly.

Her eyes darted around at the other boxes, wondering if that is why they were there. Alphard had been given her father's belongings when he was incarcerated and he had stored some of it, at least one box, when he could have quite justifiably thrown it all away.

The old tape was ripped from the seems and the flaps were thrown open. An old Beater's bat, signed by someone Cassy had never heard of, an old Gryffindor scarf, several muggle records, and a small stack of photographs. Instantly, she froze at the photograph on top. Two tiny children sat on a bright mat, paper plates in front of them filled with tiny sausages and break sticks. The girl was easily recognisable to Cassy, having seen several of her own childhood photographs before. Her hair was only at her shoulders, not mid-back, and her eyes were still large and bright blue. She wore a red dress and the boy beside her, a tuft of black hair jutting out in all directions, wore a similar coloured shirt. His eyes were a beautiful green. Suddenly, he plucked the hovering snitch from the air and held it out to the girl beside him and she took it, handing him a bread stick in return.

The next photograph was of James and Lily, both donned in colourful paper hats and pulling faces at one another in the Gryffindor common room.

Cassy did not look through the rest. She took the entire stack and hurried back down the ladder before she gave in to the urge to rummage through the rest of the boxes.

She wondered if Harry would understand today if she could not bring herself to have a conversation with him. He had become irritated by the lack of news and Cassy thought that it was that which fuelled his regular calls as much as a desire for company and concern for her. He had heard nothing about Voldemort all summer, but neither had Cassy. It was not as if Professor Dumbledore was personally keeping her updated, and Tonks was very reluctant to discuss what she heard at work, although she did give the odd impression she had got, nameless and vague. For the most part, Cassy could easily be under the impression that there had been no change whatsoever, but Tonks had been spending more and more time out of the house lately, coming in late and bringing back people she did not seem to know well for a cup of tea, or staying at her parents' for an unusually long time. Cassy was not willing to assume, but Tonks was an Auror and that meant something quite significant in a building war.

Besides, she thought in amusement, all the conspiracy talk with Harry certainly sought to brighten his day.

As far as Professor Dumbledore was aware, Cassy was not in any sort of correspondence with Harry. He had asked her in a letter one morning, not to contact him too often and he very careful what she writes. She had held the mirror up to Harry the same evening and he had been furious, ranting loudly in his bedroom so violently that his uncle had to venture in personally to get him to quieten down. It was a sign that Professor Dumbledore was taking his account seriously, she assured him, post could be tracked and if intercepted it could easily either lead to his whereabouts, or give away important information.

'Why couldn't he tell me my post had to be limited for safety?' Harry had snapped immediately. 'He could tell me things, rather than having to find out like this. Would I even know if we didn't have these mirrors? Dumbledore should be telling me these things and keeping me in the loop. I am more capable than any of you, _I_ saw him come back and _I_ haven't heard anything! You get to ask and probe even if you get nothing, while I am stuck here by myself without a wizard in sight!'

'Well, yes,' Cassy had growled, 'you are more capable than me and I am not asking too many questions right now because I have a funeral to plan! Sorry for the inconvenience.'

She had ended the call after that. Guilt hit almost instantly, but she refused to ring him back. His anger was utterly misdirected. She spent a lot of her time making sure he was up to date with everything she knew, he had no right to shout at her. She spoke to him even when she wanted to be alone, when she wanted to shut out the world and just sit mindlessly, just read, or force Crin into sitting with her, or simply just to sleep. She had given him enough of her effort not to be rewarded with that.

He had called her back two hours later to apologise. Since then their calls had been filled with restrained anger and bitterness, but Harry held it together well; Cassy knew it was only a matter of time before all of his rage exploded outwards though.

A sudden crash pulled Cassy from her thoughts. She had remained standing outside of Alphard's bedroom, the one place she was truly reluctant to enter. Turning on her heel, she headed downstairs towards the sound. Several muttering voices could be heard from the kitchen.

'It's fine, it's fine,' said Tonks quickly. 'I'll just repair it and it will be good as new.'

Cassy entered just in time to see the shattered pieces of an old family plate fly back together. Tonks looked up at her sheepishly.

'Sorry,' she said. 'I thought it was odd I was doing so well not to break anything. It just caught up with me eventually.'

Cassy took the plate from her hands and twisted it, inspecting for cracks. 'It is fine, Tonks. I appreciate the help, even if things do occasionally get broken. Although try not to let it be a collectable.' She placed the plate back down on the table and left without another word. It was not until she was climbing the stairs that she heard the second pair of footsteps behind her. She turned at the top and Tonks halted suddenly, looking somewhat abashed.

'I thought maybe you would want some help up here. You have been by yourself for three hours now and I wondered how you were getting on...' she said, ruffling her short hair.

Cassy stared at her, before pursing her lips.

'Okay,' she said eventually. 'I could do with some help cleaning his room.'

Tonks nodded slightly. 'Yeah, I imagined you might. Let's get this done so we don't have to build up to it again.'

* * *

><p><strong>Welcome to year five! There are going to be several things going on in this year that I am excited to explore at last. I hope you will enjoy it, but I must say that this is a difficult year for me to write simply because there is a lot going on through the books as it is, let alone with me adding another character in. Rest assured it will be completed though!<strong>

**A little insight into the early weeks of Cassy's summer. As before, I have never written grief, but I have put a lot of thought into how I want it to effect Cassy and what it means to her. It will be a major theme. Personally, I find a weakness in books commonly to be that they do not explore grief very well a lot of the time. I don't want to be to heavy on it because I know it will put people off reading, but in the first few chapters, at least, it will be. After that, it will rear its head as Cassy tries to rebalance her life after all her foundations have fallen apart.**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

**Thanks!**


	2. The Order

C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl

**Chapter II: The Order**

The Sun was hideously bright. It shone through the thin curtains, illuminating every single corner of Cassy's room. A tiny clock on the bedside table red half-seven. Just as quickly as the light emerged, it vanished again behind a thin, drifting cloud, but the damage was done; Cassy was wide awake. Her eyes protested, stinging from lack of sleep and the rude awakening four hours after her mind had finally shut down. The book she had been reading was still resting beside her head and the lamp was still shining. She lay there for a time, blankly, fiercely willing her body to submit her mind to sleep once more. It did not work and the longer she lay awake the more active her thoughts became, until eventually she slunk out of the thin covers to rummage in the little wardrobe wedged in the space at the end of her bed.

She work a thin, dark green loose fitting jumper with her skinny jeans. It was warn outside, but overcast and Cassy did not have the effort to make herself presentable enough to warrant one of her pretty dresses. She wrangled her thick hair into a messy bun without much thought as she padded out and across the cool laminate.

'Slept rough, did you?' teased Tonks. Her hair was blonde today. 'You look like you have just crawled out of bed.'

Cassy does not laugh. Instead, she shifted from foot to foot, eyeing her shoes that Tonks had placed under the desk in the living room.

'May I go out?' she asked.

'Don't you want to eat something first? You hardly ate last night.'

Cassy did not have to look at Tonks to know she was frowning. She slipped her hands into her pockets and shook her head. She said, 'I am fine. I will eat when I am out. I just feel a bit restless.'

'You are always feeling restless,' muttered Tonks. She sighed and nodded. 'Just remember to take your wand and stay away from anyone who looks like a witch or wizard, all right?'

The warning had been the same the last few times Cassy had left the flat. There seemed to be some sort of vague worry that Cassy would be taken from the streets, which she found amusing. For someone not much older than her to be worried about things she would clearly remember not being concerned of at her age was bizarre. When she had first said it, Cassy had held her stare, watching her face for little changes, the small quirk of the lip that indicated Tonks was upset, or the twitch in her eye she always did when angry. Tonks held her stare entirely; Cassy noted that as meaning Tonks was not telling her something. She had been forced into enough conversations that summer to know that Tonks held eye-contact briefly before gesticulating wildly and staring off around the room in keen curiosity in case something more interesting happened to be occurring elsewhere. She had held her gaze. It had to be serious.

The next conclusion, recalled Cassy as she slipped her wand and a few Muggle currency notes into her pocket, was that Tonks was aware of something more sinister occurring. If Voldemort was back, which Cassy had yet to doubt he was, then Tonks may suspect she was a target of sorts for being so close to Harry. Tonks had no reason to believe he had returned though, with the Ministry of Magic taking every opportunity to discredit Harry through snide comments about his fame and state of mind in the _Daily Prophet_ frequently. She had listened to Cassy's retelling and nodded along. She had said nothing else on it though and Cassy was at a loss as to whether she believed her, to put it down to a thought cultivated by grief.

Cassy made sure not to touch the railings of the communal staircase as she descended. There was an odd smell that constantly lingered and more than once small groups of teenagers had been caught gathering suspiciously, cigarettes in their hands and watchful eyes. Tonks would always stride past them and they would greet her each time with a level of respect that made Cassy think Tonks had probably punched one of them for daring to talk back to her, because they appeared to be very careful of what they said in her presence. By default, they left Cassy alone too.

If Cassy had thought it was bright in her room, she had to consider outside blinding. Light reflected off the tall, metal buildings, shining down on the roads and cars in a maze of furious white light. Cassy put her hand up to her forehead. There was a slight bit of regret that she had not bothered to find her sunglasses in the boxes, but that would require unpacking and Cassy frankly did not want to, even after almost a month of living there.

The traffic was building to peak rush hour. Cars and buses swerved around one another, squeezing in and out of gaps they could hardly fit through in an effort to be the first vehicle moving. Careless Muggles on bicycles did the same and even more precariously, riding high on their seats as they turned out into traffic, ignoring the red lights and the oncoming cars.

Down the street, Cassy watched as people hurried to descend below the earth to the underground trains, ignoring their frequent arrivals in favour of blind panic that missing one would set them back an hour instead of a mere two minutes. Turning, Cassy wandered off in the opposite direction. She had made the mistake of passing through the tunnels to see what the fuss was about once before and in a tangle of limbs and flailing briefcases, she had regretted every moment of it, even if it had been fascinating to watch them all struggle to get on and off the train in time.

She wandered to a quieter part of London. While it was nothing compared to her home streets of Canterbury, she found it easier to navigate the winding roads and oncoming pedestrians as she moved away from the main roads and into a distant shopping district. It was not too far from Diagon Alley, she noted, passing by a familiar bakery that sold questionable sweet goods in a range of wizarding flavours to anyone who entered. For a moment, she considered spending her day wandering through the district, but Tonks' warning echoed in her mind. She was not supposed to approach anyone who appeared to be remotely wizard-like.

Not that Tonks would know if I did, she thought slyly and then her expression flattened. Tonks was an Auror, she probably would and then Cassy would certainly not be allowed out of the tiny flat again.

She sighed and doubled back round. There was no harm in going to the bakery at any rate.

Soon, Cassy sat on a bench opposite a park. A pastry with a bright orange centre was in one hand and a coffee was held in the other. She watched the traffic pass and eyed those walking critically, trying to work out their occupation and where they were heading so early for the sake of amusement. It did not work as well as it had guessing how people had died with Harry and Neville, but it kept her occupied enough as she waited for her food to cool.

'Hello,' came a voice from beside her.

Cassy had been careful not to initiate eye-contact with the boy who had sat beside her some time ago. Slowly, she turned to him, wearing her best face of surprise and trying to appear as if his greeting had come as a shock.

'Good morning,' she returned.

'Are you from around her?' he asked, moving his dark hair from his eyes.

'I have lived here for a while, but I am originally from Canterbury,' she said. Slowly, she squeezed the filling from her pastry.

'Why did you move?'

Nosey boy, she thought bitterly.

'Change of scenery,' she said simply.

He nodded. 'You parents fancied a move?'

'Something like that.'

There was a dull silence and Cassy resumed people watching. She hoped if she was aloof enough then he would lose interest and leave. Instead, he leant a bit closer.

'What is that, in your pasty?' he asked.

Cassy looked down at it and replied, 'Pumpkin.'

'They do those?' His nose scrunched and his lips curled in distaste.

'They sell everything in London,' she replied with a hint of a smirk. The boy was certainly a muggle and Cassy could almost have smiled with the disgusted alarm that he looked down at the orange centre with.

'And the coffee?' he asked warily.

'Java.'

He looked considerably relieved at the normal flavour.

Cassy raised the polystyrene cup to her lips and took a long sip of the hot drink. She hated coffee. It was bitter and it all tasted the same to her, as much as she had been told my the cashier they were very different. She always brought the same blend and the regular workers always made it up for her before she had even got to order. It was vile, burning her mouth and infecting it with the taste for hours each day, but she never stopped ordering it. It smelt like home. Alphard would make the same kind each morning and have a different one for each time of the day. There was something comforting about being able to smell the familiar bitterness when she awoke and on some days it was the only thing preventing her from crawling back into bed. The coffee Tonks had was not the right sought, but the scent woke Cassy up each morning none the less, always a little more calm than on the days she had skipped that stage of her routine.

Across the road was a small newspaper vendor. While it would certainly not stock the _Daily Prophet_, Cassy had toyed with the idea of buying a paper when she sat down. The noise would only be obscured by the traffic and Cassy had limited interest in the ongoing Muggle Sri Lankan Civil War.

She took another sip of her coffee. Her nose crinkled slightly as she found where all the sugar she had put in it had gone to, apparently congregating in a single mouthful of vile bitter-sweetness that almost made her gag. The boy beside her did not notice. He began speaking of his own life. He was waiting to meet a friend who lived in London, but his train in had been early and he had left the station to find a payphone to let him know. He was from Surrey himself, like Harry and Cassy considers asking him if they had met, but Surrey was a large place and not many people their appeared to like him. She swirled the drink in the cup. She would probably just throw it over him and leave if he said anything bad; she was not in a mood for a fight.

'You're very pretty, you know,' said the boy, suddenly.

Cassy kept her face neutral, yet an uncomfortable tingling ran over her skin. It felt odd to be complimented by a stranger in an informal setting. During a dance or a ball was something else entirely, not uncommon and frequent enough that many years ago Cassy had come to believe the words held some truth, but always they were said for politeness more than genuine thought. This time, Cassy felt the slightest bit flattered.

'Thank-you,' she said, with a short side-long glance.

Less than ten minutes later, the boy rose. He waved to a group of people walking towards them and they waved back enthusiastically. Then, he turned to her and said, 'You can come too if you like. It might be more interesting that eating that gross pasty of yours and staring at traffic.'

Part of her wanted to go. The boy was attractive and nice. It could be interesting, a break from the monotony that she had lead herself into, but they would soon find her strange when she did not understand their references and their colloquialisms. She had two years of Muggle Studies behind her, which was not nearly enough and besides, she reminded herself, Tonks had explicitly told her not to wander off with strangers of any sort.

Cassy offered him a meagre half-smile and shook her head. 'No, thank-you, but it was kind of you to offer.'

He tilted his head and squinted at her. 'I bet you live in a nice part of London. You speak like you would.'

Cassy lifted and eyebrow and smirked. She watched him run to his friends. They chatted and looked back at her. She quickly ducked her head to her drink that she clasped with both hands. It was becoming cold and cold coffee was worse than hot coffee. Quickly, she down the rest of it and threw it into the nearest bin. She set off walking aimlessly, stopping occasionally to buy drinks or to sit, but she travelled a wide berth with no purpose. The underground was stuff, even with a lack of people after the lunch hour, and she sweltered in her woollen top for only a few stops before deciding she best get off. She had stopped stupidly to wait for the machine to give her back her ticket and a woman had nudged her sharply in the back, telling her to hurry along. Cassy strode passed the same woman on the stairs later when all of her bags had split and her things scattered. Apparently, she had bumped into another person for moving too slowly once more.

The sun was beginning to set when Cassy thought to begin the return journey to Tonks' flat. She had spent several hours in a war museum and had been caught marvelling at each item on display. They had never covered warfare in Muggle Studies and she had easily spent hours roaming the same exhibits. She bit her lip as she climbed the stairs of the apartment block. The lock clicked so gently that it was almost silent, but the flat was deathly quiet. It was shut just as softly, barely audible over the ticking of the large clock in the living room. Gingerly, she peered in the kitchen. There was no note on the counter to state Tonks had been called into work. A sweet scent flowed from the room and saucepans rested, cooling on the side and in the sink.

'Where have you been?' barked a voice from behind her.

Cassy jumped. 'Of all the times for you to be stealthy!' she breathed.

'You were supposed to be back over two hours ago!' snapped Tonks.

'It is not even dark yet,' protested Cassy. 'I would bet you hardly returned on time when you were my age.'

'I wasn't fifteen when You-Know-Who was running around somewhere unchecked, was I?'

There was an overwhelming desire to say that she was, actually, only Voldemort had not had a body, but she squashed it down quickly. She had never seen Tonks so angry and more importantly, Tonks was very serious about Voldemort having returned.

'I am sorry,' said Cassy quietly. 'Time just ran away with me.'

'Stop doing that – apologising all the time. You used to bicker back all the time and now you just cave and apologise to me. It's weird,' mumbled Tonks. She sighed and folded her arms. 'Look, I know it's boring and I know you hate being indoors, but we live in the centre of London. There are hundreds of witches and wizards who live and work around here and you will be easily recognisable as one of Harry's friends. Voldemort has been lurking around and we think he has a few contacts within the Ministry, so I am just trying to make sure you don't accidentally wind up somewhere one of them thinks it would be a good idea to hurt you.'

'You think he has infiltrated the Ministry?' repeated Cassy seriously. 'How would you know that?'

'You don't really think we've been doing nothing, do you?' came a second voice from the living room. It was low and roughish, belonging only to Alistair Moody.

Cassy pushed passed Tonks and stood in the entrance to the living room. In the wide armchair, he sat. His wooden leg protruding from beneath his dark trousers and his magical eye flitting madly before settling squarely on her. His hair was as wild, but his face was more gaunt than the imposter that had taught them the year before from having been kept barely alive in a trunk for almost a year.

'Mister Moody,' she said curtly.

Moody snorted, 'I haven't heard anyone call me that for many, many years. I believe we've met before?'

'You cursed me in a cupboard, yes,' said Cassy frankly and he laughed loudly.

Tonks pushed by and settled herself down on the sofa, taking the seat nearest her mentor.

'You gave those Aurors a good fright when you befuddled them and hid. I don't think they would have thought to look there again if I hadn't spotted you through the wall,' he said with a wide smile, contorting his all ready mangled face. 'They thought they were cursed by the house.'

'That was the plan,' she said lowly, sinking into the seat beside Tonks at her incessant patting of the cushion.

'I am going to go and re-heat dinner,' announced Tonks. 'Then we can all have a chat during the meal.'

Cassy wondered what kind of a conversation she was supposed to have with the two Aurors. Tonks had mentioned that they knew something was happening and Moody had clearly stated there was some sort of counter movement, so Cassy's earlier suspicions of Tonks knowing more than she let on was correct. She dearly wanted to ask, but she forced herself to wait to hear what they had to say. There was no way that they could avoid it and if they tried then she had all ready begun plotting ways to extract information from Tonks, slowly but surely.

'I am sorry for your uncle's death.'

Cassy turned to Moody.

'He was a good man,' he continued soberly. 'I knew him from school and even though we were in opposite houses, I had to give him respect. He was very good at what he did and he was always very civil, even when you knew he didn't want to be.'

'Thank-you,' replied Cassy quietly. She was still not fond of people offering their condolences.

'Well, you might as well stay around to hear what we were discussing how. You will find out soon enough anyway,' he said, taking a sip from his hip flask. His magical eye roamed over the wall opposite and followed around as Tonks came through the doorway, hovering three bowls of stew.

'Since you have just got back, I thought you might like some too. I always make too much,' said Tonks, handing him a bowl. He sniffed it.

'Hasn't been poisoned, has it?' he asked gruffly.

'Not unless you failed to notice someone break into my house while you were here,' responded Tonks cheerfully. She handed the next bowl to Cassy before taking her own seat.

Moody hummed and took a sip. 'I was just telling Cassy here that we might as well fill her in on what's going on. She'll know soon enough anyway.'

'Do you think Dumbledore will mind?'

'She's going to have to be told sooner of later and in this block of Muggles is probably the best place for it.'

Cassy dismissed how they spoke about her as if she was not there. The stew was warm, refreshing against the cooled air of the flat. Tonks had obviously not meant they would be discussing the ongoings she had thrown at her when she walked in. Cassy was silently very thankful for Moody.

'We're going to be moving.'

Cassy turned to Tonks in surprise. 'Where?'

'Elsewhere in London. Well, I won't be there all the time, but I will come and go. I have a lot to do, so it will be more difficult to keep coming back here. It is easier if you are somewhere were you won't be alone all the time.'

'Somewhere I am not in the way,' offered Cassy, unable to keep her voice from becoming flat.

'You're not in the way,' frowned Tonks.

'You're going to be going to the heart of the action, actually,' interjected Moody. 'You will be staying at Headquarters.'

Cassy wondered how well the wards on the flat would have to be charmed for him to be able to admit that.

'Dumbledore is on the move. He has been making little excursions and building support for a while. That's why I haven't been around so much lately. Moody approached me about the Order and I have been doing a few tasks for them as well as working,' explained Tonks.

'The Order?' repeated Cassy.

'The Order of the Phoenix,' answered Moody. He dropped his spoon back into his stew and set it on the coffee table. 'It is an old organisation that Albus set up in the first war to fight You-Know-Who. He's reformed it after the incident last month. We're just getting back onto out feet.'

'And a resistance is mounting? How well? The Government are not keen to publicise Voldemort's return,' said Cassy warily.

Moody stared at her with widened eyes and Cassy stared back. He began nodding with a bit of a smile and said, 'Not many people dare to use his name. I suppose you hear it a lot from Potter?'

'You glorify him further if afraid to even speak his name,' she said calmly.

'Too right,' said Moody.

'Anyway, progress is slow at the Ministry. We have to be very careful who we speak to. We could lose our jobs if the Ministry thinks we're stirring things up,' said Tonks lightly. 'We are making some headway though.'

'There are a few of you within the Ministry then? You said 'we' and you cannot be referring to Moody because he is retired. Who else is there?' she asked curiously.

'Ah, you got me,' said Tonks. 'I can't tell you though. We don't want it getting out.'

Cassy hardly considered it likely she was going to string the names from the window in a great banner of betrayal, but she nodded along anyway. It never hurt to be cautious.

'Are you all right with moving? I know you've only just got here, but it will only be for this summer and if you would rather stay here then that is fine, but some of your friends will be moving into soon too,' said Tonks, when Cassy failed to respond.

'Who?'

'Arthur and Molly Weasley and their kids will be there by late July,' said Moody.

Harry had mentioned the Weasley's had been asked to take immediate action, but Cassy was surprised that they were willing to uproot all of their children. Cassy's eyebrow began to drift upwards as she wondered how large the Headquarters was.

The conversation did not continue much after that. All the information she had been told was what they had deemed necessary. Any further questions she had were rebuffed with 'Order only', or 'You can know when you're of age'. Tonks had giggled at Cassy's flat expression and told her how she knew it was irritating, but they were on Dumbledore's orders. It was the same man who had asked them to alienate Harry for the summer and as soon as Tonks collected the bowls and Moody dismissed himself, Cassy was in her room, rummaging beneath her pillow for the two-way mirror. She jumped up again to lock the door and turned on the radio on the desk beside it, letting the Weird Sister's fill the room.

'Harry,' she hissed, turning the mirror. 'Harry!'

'Evening,' came the low response. Harry's bottle green eyes popped into view and his eyebrows suddenly rose. 'Been in the sun today?'

'A little,' said Cassy, checking for pink patches on her arms. 'Anyway, you will never guess what I have just been told.'

Without missing a beat, Harry brought the mirror closer to his face and Cassy launched into an explanation of everything she had been told. She might not know where Headquarters was, but she knew that there was one and that had Harry sighing in relief. The news had been a long time coming and the sound of it seemed to calm his fraying nerves greatly. He had just as many questions as Cassy had and she rebuffed him just the same as she had been, laughing under her breath as his eyes narrowed before grinning.

'This is great, but it would be nice if Dumbledore actually came here and told me himself,' he said.

'By the sounds of it, Professor Dumbledore has not been around much at all. He is very heavily involved with the Ministry and is getting into a lot of trouble for spreading your story,' said Cassy. 'The Order seems to operate on a needs basis. I only know because Tonks cannot handle having me and her work. She needs me out of the way.'

'I'm sure it's not like that,' assured Harry with a slight frown. 'Besides, you get to be at the heart of it!'

'I am not sure I can find out too much, actually. They seem to be reluctant to mention anything they thought I was too young for. It does not seem to matter to them that when war breaks out I will be fighting, all they see is my current age,' she said irritably.

'Well, they better not try and hide things from me later – assuming I ever get out of here... Dumbledore certainly wants me kept in the dark.'

'I will try and change some minds when I am there. I go next week. It should be an experience.'

'I wish I was there,' he said quietly.

'I will tell you everything I find, I promise you that much,' she said.

'Not because of that – I mean, it will be great, but I all ready know that. I just mean so you aren't stuck in another house by yourself. I can tell how much you hate being where you are and to move twice in a month must be hard, especially to one filled with people you probably won't know,' he explained, frowning slightly.

That is really sweet, Cassy thought instantly and ducked her head. She smiled slightly at him and said, 'Thank-you, Harry. I am sure it will be fine, though. It has to be more interesting than being here.'

'You're really sunburnt, you know. You should do something about that.'

Cassy was not sure it was the sunburn making her face red.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, here is chapter two. Introduction of the Order and some more general life of Cassy mulling around in London. It has only been about three weeks since Alphard died, if anyone wants a timeline.<strong>

**I think Tonks would be a bit snappy because she worries and Cassy is moping around in a dangerous city instead of doing as she's told. I feel as though irritation would rise with the pressure she has at work, with the Order, and with being responsible for Cassy, but she means well. I know in the explanation Rowling released of Tonks and Remus' confession, she was angry with Remus for not realising she liked him and was pretty snappy then, so I am basing it off that. I don't really recall seeing her angry in the book, to be honest.**

**Hope you enjoyed it. Please review!**

**Thanks!**


	3. Grandmother's house

C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl

**Chapter III: Grandmother's house**

It was fortunate that Tonks had charmed her flat with a cooling charm for the summer or else Cassy might have easily over-heated in the four hours she had spent beside the oven in Tonks' tiny kitchen. It was nice enough, although very bright and not well cleaned at all. Tonks once told her as long as it looked clean then it was clean enough for her and Cassy has not minded until she had leant in a particularly sticky patch of counter.

Cassy ran her hands under the tap once again as Tonks poked her head through the doorway. She giggled and grinned, putting armful of bags she was carrying down onto the counter.

'Still baking?' she asked, plucking one of the disregarded cookies up front the pile beside the kettle.

'The first batch was burnt, the second tasted odd, the third needed more sugar. This one, however, tasted really nice as a dough, so I am hoping I have mastered it,' replied Cassy, kneeling in front of the oven to stare through the glass door.

'I don't see what's wrong with this one,' said Tonks. She picked up another and her face instantly crumpled as if having liked soap or something equally disgusting.

'I piled them all together,' admitted Cassy with a low laugh.

'I assume that was one from the second batch,' said Tonks weakly. The remains went straight in the bin. 'Do you cook often, or is this a new hobby?'

'I have never made more than a basic sandwich, to be honest. Harry once told me he would teach me to cook. He cooks a lot for his relatives,' she said.

'I see why you don't cook. I mean, I wouldn't if I had a pair of house-elves. I don't really cook now, if I could afford it I would have take-away every night. Then again, I don't think I would pass the Auror standards if I did that, I don't think I would be fit enough, but it would be worth it to have Chinese or Indian every night.' Tonks stared up at the ceiling. 'Do you fancy Chinese tonight? I get off work a bit late.'

'I have never had it.' Cassy opened the oven to turn the tray around with a tea towel. She looked up and behind her at the lack of response. Tonks was staring at her in shock.

'Never? Blimey, you don't know what you're missing,' she said, sounding a lot like Ron suddenly. 'That settles it. We'll have Chinese when I get back at about seven then.'

Cassy puts all the used utensils in the sink and Tonks waves her wand over them. The brush lifted itself and began to work.

'Where are those house-elves of yours?' asked Tonks.

'In Canterbury. I do not have much use of them here and they like to keep the house clean. Besides, they would have a fit if they saw me doing my own cooking. They fidget enough if I make my own drinks,' muttered Cassy and Tonks laughed.

Cassy was privately very pleased Plum was keeping herself busy with the house. More than once she had been forced to shoo her little elf from her room, her patience quickly wearing thin at her insane demands. It had started with infrequent requests for her to eat more, easily brushed away, but as time progressed, they became more common and Cassy did not want disturbing each night with a bowl of non-requested food shoved under her nose. Those had attempts had given way to questions about Narcissa and Draco, whether she had written to them, or heard from them, prompts that she should make the first move, even though she had and had been rejected.

A flicker of resentment rose within her chest one evening and she turned to the pair with narrowed eyes. She should not have let them become so familiar with her, cross the boundaries that others had always set and allowing them to make such demands. In an instant, she banned them both from speaking to and of Narcissa in context of contacting her. They were not to ask, or prompt, unless news of her having contacted Cassy appeared first. They were not to try and force her to eat when she did not want to, not do anything she did not want. They could suggest, but were to drop the topic if she declined. It was the first strong command she had ever given them and was lenient at best, but it did what she wanted. It shocked them into doing as she said anyway. She silently congratulated herself on not banning everything outright. The house-elves sunk and withered under the intensity of her stare, even though she had refused to glare.

Opening the oven once again, Cassy pulled the tray out. The cookies were a light golden brown and a sweet, delicious smell filled the air.

'They look good! Personally, I can't make shortbread. My mum makes the best. The only thing I can bake is cupcakes and plain biscuits. I'm not really into baking any more than cooking, you see, unless it involves eating it!' Tonks grinned cheekily. She plucked one of the fresh cookies from the tray, gasping as she threw she steaming treat from hand to hand. She dropped it down onto the side and Cassy fixed her with a very pointed look.

'And how old are you?' she drawled. 'The rest of these are for Harry, anyway.'

'Oh?' said Tonks, shoving broken bits into her mouth as if it made a difference to the heat. She fanned her mouth. 'Why?'

'Because he does not eat well at home,' said Cassy shortly. She was not about to divulge Harry's family life to people who did not even know him. 'Besides, they would just bulk up the present I brought him this morning.'

'Wha' 'id' woo ge' 'im?' questioned Tonks, unable to shut her mouth, steam escaping thickly.

Cassy paused and stared for a moment before saying, 'Some trainers and a pair of goggles for Quidditch that adjust to his eyesight.'

Cassy hated all of his shoes, they were tatty and old and she had been unable to resist when she had spotted them in a Muggle shop window a few days ago. She had all ready purchased the goggles, having heard much of him complaining in previous years that his glasses often slipped down his nose during the game. She had even bartered them down in price simply by asking a dozen questions and disconcerting the other people in the store so much that he wanted her out. It was a wonderful time-waster.

'How is the Order going?' she asked.

'Same as usual,' answered Tonks, carefully rummaging through the pile of attempted biscuits. 'The Headquarters is still a complete mess. You will have lots of fun cleaning, I'm sure.'

Cassy deflated very quickly at the idea of manual labour and Tonks cackled.

'How's packing?' Tonks carefully put the next cookie on her tongue, testing the flavour before taking a large bite.

'Complete,' she said. She had simply taken most of the boxes out of her wardrobe where she had stacked and hidden them weeks ago.

'You need to be ready at seven on Thursday morning and I need to go back to work. My lunch break is almost over. Have fun cooking and remember, Chinese tonight.'

Cassy waved and took the small box of cookies into the living room. Pausing, she scanned the skies through the open windows. There was not a bird in sight, no large owl flying back towards her with a parcel tied to his leg. Crin was nowhere to be seen and that was good. It meant that he had not been immediately sent back with the gift she had carefully selected tied to his leg returning with him. She did not know if it had been to the correct taste at all and not until September would be know anything for certain at all. After all, it was difficult to imagine wedding present ideas for those she did not know.

* * *

><p>For the first time in weeks, the summer Sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. The grey skies reflected the dark street, each house tall and thin with dark, grimy stonework and steps leading to the front doors with tiny gardens. Black bin-bags lined the streets, ready for collection. Several houses had cracked windows and yellowed net curtains behind dusty drapes. Dry grass sprouted from between the old paving slabs of the street.<p>

Cassy, Tonks, and Remus stood between numbers eleven and thirteen. On either side of them were number ten and fourteen. Remus shifted with some of Cassy's boxes, reaching deep within the pockets of his tattered jacket to hand her a scrap of paper. She took it and read the little, scrawling writing carefully. It read:

_Twelve Grimmauld Place, London_

Cassy blinked, only mildly surprised. There was a rumble as numbers eleven and thirteen became to move apart from one another, revealing more dull bricks and dirty windows. The curtains were drawn on each and every level, looking very much as if no one was home.

'My Grandmother's house. How wonderful,' she said lightly.

Tonks and Remus turned to her in surprise as Cassy scanned the front of the house, drinking in every detail. It had been many years since she had last visited. Not much looked different besides the poorer appearance of the curtains. The entrance had never been very inviting in her memory. The paint of the door had begun to chip and peel and the solid, silver door handle was tarnished, yet still clearly shaped like a viscous serpent. She had never expected to enter the house again and she had hardly considered once her father escaped that it might be a place he would run to.

'I thought you would have forgotten this by now. Your Grandmother died a decade ago, if I recall,' said Remus, moving towards the door.

Cassy was vaguely aware of the way Tonks' eye was trained on the back of Remus, drifting from his head downwards in absolutely no hurry.

'To be honest, I have only seen the front once or twice and that was when I was leaving, so I could naturally see it from that perspective. Usually, we would Floo in,' said Cassy, dragging her trunk up the steps with a great deal of effort.

'The Floo has long since been shut off and that works well enough for us. It's safer if people have to be invited in,' responded Remus. He kicked the door with his foot, unable to reach the doorbell with the boxes he held. 'I see why you two needed another pair of hands.'

Cassy chose not to mention that she would have taken less of her belongings if she had to carry it all herself; he had dug his own hole by offering.

The door opened suddenly. A tall, dark-skinned man stood there, looking down at the three of them critically. His clothing was of a fine material, dark blue in colour and of a slightly longer design. It suggested he had a wand hidden beneath his jacket, holstered at his hip like Cassy had seen Tonks do on several occasions. This man was most likely an Auror and a good one if his clothes reflected his pay packet.

'Kingsley,' greeted Remus.

'This is Cassy,' said Tonks brightly, nudging the younger girl in the back.

Kingsley nodded at her and a slow smile grew over his face. He moved to one side, allowing Remus through and Cassy followed close behind him. 'Welcome. My name is Kingsley Shaklebolt. Your father is most excited to see you. You do not look surprised that he is here, although you shouldn't have known. It's top secret.' He cast a pointed look towards Tonks, who threw up her hands in defence.

'I was not told, but I am not surprised,' she said peering around the entrance hall. 'I knew he had to be here, the only way to enter the ancestral home is with permission of its current owner and that is him.'

An immediate smell of must assaulted Cassy's nose. The air was thick with it, mingling with the damp and a faint scent of bacon. The gas lamps that lined the walls burnt lowly, illuminating the piles of books and cloths that were pushed towards each wall. A chair sat beneath the covered window, stacked high with dusty shoes, some of which appeared to be children's and others had been worn away, their delicate materials unable to withstand time. It was in desperate need of a clean and Cassy was resentfully aware that Tonks had not been joking when she said she would be cleaning the house during her stay.

The wall paper was heavily patterned. It was similar to her house in Canterbury, but darker and less inviting, merging into the dark floorboards and the heavy frames of each portrait that lined the wall. The paper peeled backwards, dotted with small black marks that riddled the house with the foul smell. High chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their glittering crystals dulled exponentially by the years of dust that clung to them. Once cleaned they would fetch a grand price.

'A word of caution, some things in the hall like to screech, so watch your noise,' murmured Remus.

Cassy peered at him curiously. 'I remember a fair few items that would curse you or bite if you let them close enough.'

'I think we have yet to find those,' said Shaklebolt, his voice deep and somewhat wary. 'Much has been moved since then, I expect.'

Cassy's eyes flick behind him at the large curtain that spanned almost from the ceiling to the floor, pooling one the ground. It was squared at the top and Cassy had the curious desire to pull the cloth off and see exactly what they were hiding. She had not memory of such a thing.

'Leave your stuff here. I'll take it upstairs. I'm sure Tonks can show you to the kitchen,' said Remus.

'I'll give you a hand,' offered Shaklebolt before Tonks' arm wrapped around Cassy's shoulder and guided her down the hall. Cassy heard Crin squawk in protest, followed by a sharp hiss of pain as he nipped at the fingers of whoever had tried to pick his cage up.

There was a door just behind the staircase, dark and almost invisible to the eye, had it not been for the handle protruding. The stairs descending were rickety, old and uneven from many more years of neglect that the rest of the house. The ceiling was low and lights were dim. There were no windows of any sort in the basement. Candles covered the sides, carefully floating above the stacks of rubbish and bursting boxes that littered the floors. Several people sat at the table. Many mugs were spread across it, almost all of the chairs were vacant. Several people ducked and gathered materials, moving them from one pile to another with no real sense of reason.

The step beneath Cassy creaked. Everyone turned and a mane of black hair suddenly appeared from behind the table.

Resentment flared violently and suddenly from the unknown depths of Cassy's stomach. This man was not who she should be seeing, who she had missed so feircely, this was her father, but not her father figure. This was the man who had the title when she had lost the man who had earnt it; it was terribly _wrong_ to see him, he could not be what Alphard was – Cassy cut off her thoughts very suddenly. That was unfair; it was unfair to compare Sirius to Alphard. Guilt bubbled, as if her thoughts had tumbled out of her mouth, as though Sirius might have read her thoughts.

Where had that come from? She thought.

It was only worse when she saw his excited face. He opened his arms for a hug, before looking at his hands and wiping them quickly down on his trousers.

'Good morning,' she managed before he reached her.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly.

'Finally. It is good to see you again,' he said warmly.

Cassy almost felt sick with herself.

'Welcome to your ancestral home,' said Sirius monotonously.

Cassy laughed lowly. 'It is more dilapidated than I recall.'

'You should see how I remember it! If a single spoon was out of line you would be clouted,' he said. 'Of course, the crazy old bat would always know when you had moved something even an inch. The only enjoyably part of being here is the satisfaction of being able to throw everything she loved out. I was not sure if you would have been in the house or not, I knew you had met her, but I was uncertain if...'

'She would let me in? She was very reluctant, to my memory. I was hardly a welcomed guest and was told so on more than one occasion.' Her nose crinkled slightly at the thought of it.

Sirius wore an identical expression.

'Are you two sneering at each other, or...?' came Remus' voice from the staircase.

'Just sharing memories of my mother,' answered Sirius cheerfully.

Remus emitted a withered sigh. He stepped towards them with Shaklebolt following behind with a large grin. He asked, 'Again? That was almost the first thing you two said to one another when you met.'

'It's nice to have something common to bond over,' said Sirius airily.

'Is Kreacher still around?' questioned Cassy.

'Unfortunately,' said Sirius grimly. 'Whenever we try and clear up he takes things from the rubbish and he puts them back, or into his cupboard. It's a nightmare. We have two rooms completely cleared currently. One of them is yours, if you would like to see it.'

'Yes, okay,' said Cassy uncertainly.

He waved for her to follow him out of the kitchen and down the hall. They ascended the first flight of stairs and turned into an equally dark hall. The walls were still lined with stacks of books and the occasional silver plate or goblet. The floorboards creaked beneath their feet and the piles groaned, shifting precariously as they past.

'This was one of the guest rooms, so it was not so bad to clean. It was the first one I did, after one of the bathrooms, of course. There was a pack of pixies living beneath the bath over there,' rambled Sirius, pointing haphazardly to a door that was pushed to.

They passed several doors, each shut and some rumbling, until they came to one with more things stacked outside than any other. Sirius surveyed the mounds for a moment before admitting he had not considered moving the things he removed to a more convenient location. He had just been pleased to be finished and that was something she would quickly become accustomed to. While Cassy did her best to hide her lack of enthusiasm, her father turned to her with a wide grin and laughed to himself. She was unable to catch exactly what he muttered, but it sounded suspiciously like 'you are in for a treat'.

He pushed open the door and waved his arm for her to enter. Slowly, but curiously, Cassy poked her head inside for only a second before her eyes were are wide as saucers and her mouth opened with a thousand words on her lips.

'It's beautiful,' she breathed. While she had expected the same scruffy appearance of the rest of the house, only cleaner, but what she received in reality was very different. The walls were pale blue from ceiling to floor, with a white picture rail running high on the wall. It was filled with large, dark furnishings, old and ornate, managing somehow not to blend well into the large room. The floor was bare and stained and at the very end of the room was an old fireplace, much like she suspected the rest of the rooms to have. Her hands ran over the golden bedding on the double bed and down towards the trunk at the foot of it.

'I just painted it really. I thought blue would be better than the green, pealing wallpaper,' said Sirius, remaining in the doorway. 'I moved some of the furniture from other rooms too, but most of what you see was in here. It just needed a clean.'

Cassy peered up at the chandelier fixed on the high ceiling.

'Do you... do you like it?' he asked hesitantly and Cassy was inwardly shocked at the tone.

She turned and smiled softly. 'It is wonderful, thank-you. You really did not need to put so much effort in.'

'I wanted you to feel welcome and... I thought it might be nice to have a place to go to by yourself when you want to be alone,' he said quietly.

Stunned, Cassy stared at him. Her eyes softened further. He understood. Her father understood exactly how she felt; he knew of her desire to be alone, to vanish from the world and the eyes of everyone it it in an instant, unforeseeable and unpredictably. The guilt in her stomach moved up to grip her heart tightly.

'Thank-you,' she said quietly, trying her hardest not to mumble it.

He smiled at her and clapped his hand on her shoulder. He said, 'It is fine. All I had to do was buy some paint, the paper was so old that it hardly required any effort to tear down. I just... I'm glad you like it.'

The walls were a shade lighter than her childhood room, it was close enough for her mind though. Everything else was terribly wrong. The vast walls lacked her photographs and the pictures she had pinned up through the years that Draco had drawn her. The bookcase beside the fireplace was empty, not overflowing with books she had sneaked out of Alphard's study and off various shelves of the house. None of the various items Cassy had collected over the years cluttered the mantle. Traitorously, a part of her mind was all ready planning where she could place everything from her boxes.

Suddenly, the change of accommodation did not seem so temporary.

'It means a lot to me,' said Cassy weakly. Yet a large part of her wished he had not bothered at all.

He smiled, 'I will leave you to unpack. Join us in the kitchen when you are done, if you want.'

She nodded and he vanished around the corner. Quickly, she sunk down onto the springy bed, her legs unable to hold her. Her hand flew to her mouth and she breathed deeply, trying to calm her churning insides. Roughly, her free hand dug into the thin material of her skirt. She groaned, rubbing the palms of her hands into her eyes.

'How awful of me,' she grumbled.

Jumping up with more energy that she felt, Cassy strode over to the boxes that Remus and Shaklebolt had brought up. Tearing open the smallest, she extracted the little purple plant she had salvaged from home and placed it on the mantle, before adding the clown with the droopy legs she had received several years ago from Narcissa. She stared at it, considering putting it away again, but she had become accustomed to seeing it, not matter where it came from.

It was odd, thought Cassy as she unpacked, that she would bring so many items to a place she considered temporary. It was as if she was reluctant to part with any of it, just in case she did not have the option to return for it again. Frowning at her own thoughts, she placed the carved dog her father had brought her the previous year on the opposite end of the mantle. Her arms fell back to her side.

'Now I have gone and depressed myself even further,' she sighed. She moved away from the boxes and with it the desire to curl up on the bed until the feeling past. Instead, she ambled downstairs, taking a moment to poke her head into any and all unlocked rooms on the way. The bathroom was spacious and somewhat clean, if only liveable. Plum and Kitsy would have fainted with the state of it and Cassy filed the thought away, reminding herself to suggest their assistance to her father.

Most of the bedrooms were locked, although the occasional cupboard was open, packed with objects that clattered and spilled out into the hall each time she opened one. After she had gathered up the collection in the third cupboard for the second time – it had collapsed immediately after she had crammed it back in – she slammed it shut and considered containing her curiosity for places she new would not cause hassle.

The kitchen was emptier when she ducked back into it. Only Sirius, Remus, and Tonks remained, chatting over a cup of tea at the cluttered table.

'There she is,' said Tonks brightly. 'You will have to show me your room before I go.'

'Yes, sure,' said Cassy taking the seat beside her, opposite her father.

'Hang on, let me get you a cup of tea. Sirius was just making breakfast when we came in. Do you want some?'

'I am fine, thank-you,' said Cassy. She looked between Sirius and Remus. 'So, what has been going on with the Order then, how busy is Headquarters normally?'

'Empty,' said Sirius sharply. 'People come and go, but they rarely stay for long at all.'

'We all live busy lives and there are quite a few of us, but you will pick up on names soon enough,' said Remus, calmly brushing Sirius aside.

'So meetings and things are infrequent?' she asked.

'You will not be in on those. They are for Order members only,' said Remus sharply.

Cassy waved her hand dismissively. She had heard that before and had no interest in listening to the conditions again. Lazily, she looked at Tonks as she set the frying-pan alight. Remus rushed up to help, while Sirius watched curiously from his seat.

'She does that a lot. You will get used to it,' said Cassy quietly.

Sirius' eyebrows raised a little higher and it looked as though he was on the verge of smiling.

Cassy thought of Crin upstairs. He had probably made himself comfortable on her wardrobe by then, but she had a letter she needed to write and it needed to be sent soon. It was vital, she reasoned, that she sent it regardless of her restrictions on post. She needed to tell Hermione to spend the summer with her family and decline any invitation to stay at Grimmauld place. It was quiet and empty, dirty and cluttered. There was no vital information to be immediately acquired. It would be slow and required tact. Hermione had best spend her summer with her family, where she would be happy and relaxed, not pent up in a dark house, unable to even stand in the garden in fear of attack. There was nothing for her here.

* * *

><p><strong>Congrats on the end of your finals, <em>Clueless<em>, who requested I updated today! (Totally didn't mean to wish you a happy birthday, haha)**

**So, Cassy has entered Grimmauld place with no love for it. She's terribly conflicted over Sirius, unsure of what to do and how to act with him. I think Sirius would understand loss with all he has been through both before and during the war and would just _get it_. I don't, however, think he would know what to do with a teenage daughter, so I like to think they would both be as awkward as each other, haha.**

**Anyway, thank-you everyone for all of the reviews, favourites, and follows! It means a lot to me. To those of you who celebrate Christmas, Merry Christmas, and to those who don't I wish you happy holidays. I will update sometime before the New Year. **

**Thanks!**


	4. Connect and disconnect

C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl

**Chapter IV: Connect and disconnect**

Light filtered in around the thick, golden curtains from the lamppost across the road. It barely coloured the darkened room, but it was just enough for Cassy to be able to make out the short, ambling figure at the end of her bed. It grunted lowly, muttering to itself in a deep, rough voice. Even though she had turned in her bed to watch it, there were no signs of it having heard her at all. Small, jangling sounds ran out occasionally, as if pots were clanging together as it walked.

Her wand was slowly pulled from her bedside table and her other hand reached for the lamp. The fire ignited and filled the glass jar at the touch of her hand, startling the creature into covering its eyes and cursing louder. It was not Plum, nor Kitsy, but rather an elderly looking house-elf with long, pointed ears and an even longer hooked nose. His beady eyes narrow at the sight of her.

'Kreacher?' she said, staring at him. She could hardly remember what the old house-elf looked liked, but she was certain this must be him. He wore a dirty loincloth, exposing his wrinkled torso and each groove of his spine. Yellowed teeth emerged from behind his sneering lips and he glared at her with distaste utterly uncommon for a house-elf.

'Terrible, so terrible, to have such filth in this house once more,' he muttered.

'How terrible it is to have an elf so rude,' retorted Cassy.

Kreacher's sneer did not withdraw, but his eyes widened and she shook his head as he said, 'Kreacher said nothing, nothing at all.'

Cassy stared at him. She was unable to tell if he genuinely thought she would dismiss his insult with such a weak lie, or if he thought she was unable to hear his constant remarks.

'Filth. Oh, what would Mistress say...'

Pursing her lips, Cassy spared a moment to consider her next action cruel, but it would result in one of two things, neither excellent, but one more positive than the other and both hopefully leading to the same conclusion, regardless of how slowly. Sharply, she called for Plum and Kitsy.

Initially, Kreacher stared at her uncomprehendingly, but as two faint pops broke the tense silence, he began to wail. His head flung backwards and he let out a horrible, guttural cry, clutching the silverware he seemed to have collected from the hall tightly to his chest.

'Get out. Get out!' he sobbed.

'Mistress,' said Kitsy over his cries. He bowed, his head turning to Kreacher in alarm.

'Oh, dear. He is very sad,' chimed Plum. 'Plum can help.'

'No, don't touch Mistresses things. Filth, unworthy!' snapped Kreacher.

Plum stared at him indignantly.

'How rude,' gasped Kitsy.

Cassy pulled the covers back and clambered over the bed to sit closer to the three house-elves.

'Did you wake Miss? What a rude elf you are! It it you who is unworthy,' scolded Plum loudly, ensuring she would be heard over Kreacher's wails.

'This is Kreacher,' introduced Cassy. 'Kreacher, these are Plum and Kitsy, my house-elves who also serve under the mantle of the Black household.'

'She doesn't count, Mistress doesn't let filth into the family - '

'How dare you,' cried Plum and Kitsy together, their large eyes narrowing into slits and their little spindly arms raised, ready to pounce if he dared speak another word.

'As this house is now under your late Mistress' son, my elves, as his daughter, will help in restoring this house to presentable condition. You will be expected to work along side them. My father will surely instruct you of that if you resist, so I suggest you do it civilly on your own accord, rather than by standards you are unhappy with,' dictated Cassy.

Kreacher groaned and shook his head. He said, 'Kreacher does not take order from Miss, but Kreacher does not want orders from Master Sirius either... they are not to touch anything, not to throw anything away without Kreacher's approval. Kreacher is the only elf of this house, the only one whose head shall be mounted on the wall...'

At no point did Cassy expect Kreacher to actually follow through with his agreement of civility. He seemed to be firmly under the impression that no one could hear his mutterings. Years of isolation had made him deranged and she was certain that Kitsy would be able to ignore it, she had doubts that Plum would hold her tongue if she thought Kreacher was being rude to a human she was particularly fond of. Regardless, Cassy sent Kreacher from her room. He slunk out with his arms full of goblets and plates that she was certain he had been trying to deposit back in her room.

With a giant sigh, she fell back onto her bed.

'Can Plum get Miss anything?' asked Plum anxiously. She climbed onto the bed beside Cassy, peering down at her with her massive brown eyes.

'Mistress needs sleep,' added Kitsy, hoisting himself onto the other side of the bed.

'Plum can get something to help with that!'

'Quiet, noisy elfling,' scolded Kitsy.

Cassy sat up, stretching her arms high above her head. Sunlight was threatening to spill around the edges of the window and the clock had ticked around the half-five. It was almost sunrise anyway. She might as well stay awake, it would only take her an hour to fall asleep again anyway and by then her father would be calling her for breakfast at eight. It was a waste of time.

Plum and Kitsy popped back out of her room at the promise she would call on them later. They had both become fidgety with her infrequent calls, the threat in their minds that she may not need them any more. Not that Cassy would ever set them free; she had seen what it had done to Winky and she imagined Plum going to same way. Kitsy may have been able to find another family, but he was getting on in years and not many families were keen to employ older elves. Besides, she thought, she had grown much too fond of them to let them go.

Although the door was shut firmly behind her, Cassy was sceptical that it would do anything to deter Kreacher from entering her room once more. She plaited her hair over her shoulder as she walked down the unlit hall. Carefully, she kept to the centre. She stepped slowly in case Kreacher had moved the clutter from the walls outwards in his effort to salvage anything and everything. The edges and outlines were almost visible if she were to strain, but she moved from memory with little issue. Besides kicking a goblet halfway down the hall, it was a surprisingly clear path.

In the entrance hall, there was a deep snuffling sound, off and rough, muffled almost. Cassy paused in her descent, but continued soon after. There were no creatures lurking in the hall who had taken up residency in the dark, but rather only Kreacher. The breathing soon turned to ugly sobs and any thought of it being something more sinister vanished.

At the foot of the stairs, she reached blindly out in front of her for the thick curtain that covered the only window. It was ripped open, allowing a faint, yellow light to flood in as the sun peaked over the houses. A hiss from behind her sounded and she ignored it, choosing to fiddle with the gas lamp on the wall instead. Precariously, she stood on a pile of books, Kreacher wailing from beside her, to fiddle with the manual ignition. It burst into flames, adding a fraction more light to the dingy hall.

'Kreacher, what a mess,' she muttered. The light had only served to highlight the mess Kreacher had made, littering the clear pathways with fabrics and cutlery, old books and shoes.

'Someone has to look after the house,' he breathed gruffly. 'Otherwise the Disappointment Son and the filthy Muggle-lovers would throw out all of Mistress' things things. Kreacher has to salvage them – _filthy elves thinking they can help. Only Kreacher knows best..._'

'Kreacher, you need to clean this up,' she said sternly.

'Kreacher does not take orders from the bastard child, oh no. No, he does not. Not even when she comes to check on him, threaten him with these other elves, no servants to the family, only servants to filth...'

'I can hear everything you say,' said Cassy impatiently.

'Kreacher said nothing, Miss. Kreacher would never speak against... a Black,' he ducked his head and dipped into a lazy bow. Stacks of newspapers were collected once again.

Cassy watched and debated. Surely it would be better to try and have his cooperate with them than continue as he is. If she was to come downstairs the next morning and find everything she had been forced to clean scattered about the house again she would be livid. Carefully, she knelt beside him in the same way she had done to Plum many years ago when the two first met. Kreacher looked at her with his dark, beady eyes.

'Kreacher, your Mistress has no need for such old papers. You would be able to make her more proud by restoring the house she adored to its former glory, do you not think?' she said carefully.

Kreacher stared at her for a moment and suddenly, as if the words took a moment to sink in, his face crumpled. His eyes sunk beneath his brow line and his lips drew back into a fierce snarl.

'How can The Bastard speak of what Mistress would want? Mistress hated her and she knows nothing of what she wants,' he seethed.

'Kreacher, calm down,' said Cassy, standing as he tore past her. His bony hands pulled at the thick, velvet material that hung against the wall. He was cursing and mumbling, pulling frantically at the fabric and Cassy's hands reached out to keep in in place, but he had all ready retched it away. A large, heavily framed portrait hung behind it. A woman, wrinkled and pale, opened her blurry eyes. Snow white hair fell around her face out of the black cap on her head.

'Who?' she asked croaking.

'Your granddaughter,' replied Cassy blankly.

Fantastic, she thought bitterly, of course she would have a portrait and what a ghastly one it was too. Cassy had always remembered her as a disintegrating monster, but the portrait only proved her memory true.

The woman stared at her and slowly said, 'Cassiopeia?'

'Yes.'

There was another long silence, then her mouth began to open wide. The wrinkled skin pulled tight, her watery eyes narrowing into icy slits. Cassy stepped back at the sight of it, bracing her ears just in time for the shout. 'Bastard child of my traitorous son! Gryffindor child too, I bet. Blood-traitors friends and Muggle-lover too.'

'I am good friends with the Greengrasses, actually,' exaggerated Cassy through her shouts. 'Narcissa had a hand in raising me, you might recall.'

Her efforts to pacify her grandmother did nothing. She continued to shout, calling her scum and demanding to know what else occupies her father's home. Cassy listened with her hands folded across her chest, unwilling to give her grandmother the satisfaction of seeing her cover her ears as she screamed of half-breeds and treachery.

'If I was alive - '

'Thankfully, you're not,' said drawled Cassy impatiently.

'You little tart!'

The curtain lay at her feet. There was no way she could fix it over the portrait again, she was simply too short and she would need to pull Kreacher from it first. He had tangled himself in it wailing along, answering each of Wulburga's questions, even though she seemed unable to hear him. Cassy's long fingers pulled at the edges of the frame as the shouts became louder. They could not slip behind, the portrait was charmed to the wall, so any hope she had of stuffing it in another room vanished. Scowling, Cassy pulls the curtain out from beneath Kreacher, who latched onto it, crying out.

'Mistress should not be covered so,' he argued, pulling back at it. Cassy ignored him and continued pulling, she looked behind her for something she could move to stand on quickly to wrestle it back over. Then, Wulburga's screams got louder.

'Traitorous son and his no-good daughter, tainting the Black blood. Look what you have done! You are no son of mine. Leave, scum, leave!'

'Oh, shut up, you hag,' came a sharp voice from behind.

Cassy whirled around. Sirius stood at the top of the stairs, his hair matted and his clothing crumpled from an obvious rush to dress himself. His bare feet padded down the stairs in no hurry. Roughly, he tugged the curtain from Cassy's grip, sending Kreacher sprawling across the floor and flung it back over his mother's portrait with little effort. He stepped back and she fell silent almost immediately, only letting out whispered insults sparingly.

'The rest of you can shut up too,' he snapped at the rest of the portraits in the hall that had begun to whine at the sound. They turned and mumbled to one another.

'Sorry,' said Cassy quickly. 'Kreacher pulled it down and I could not reach to put it up again.'

Before he had a chance to respond, she darted to the little door beneath the stairs and hurried down into the kitchen. Again, she reached out for the gas lamp on the wall, when it suddenly sprung to life with the rest following suit. Cassy lowered her arms and stood on the stairs stupidly before looking back up to her father in the doorway. Turning on her heel, Cassy strode over to the sink to fill the kettle. There was a creek behind her and Cassy was very aware that he had sunk into one of the old, wooden chairs surrounding the table. She ignited the hob beneath the kettle.

'I don't suppose you fancy making me a coffee?' he asked, his arms reaching around his head to run through his tatty hair.

'Where is it?' she asked.

'In the cupboard to the left of the oven.'

It was such an awful way to start the day. She had woken him up at sunrise and in the noisiest manner possible. Inwardly, she cursed her own luck. He had been very kind and understanding to her yesterday, which was a vast improvement on the last time the two were alone together and he had hexed and robbed her. She poured the boiling water into the two mugs and stirred.

'What are you doing up so early anyway? When I was your age I struggled to get up before lunch,' Sirius asked as she placed the cup down in front of him.

'I awoke to Kreacher ambling through my room,' she said, taking a seat opposite him. She sipped at her tea and Sirius grunted.

'There is a key somewhere. I found it when cleaning, but I would not like to say where it is now,' he admitted, his voice becoming high and he stretched. Without any regard to the steam the cup was emitting, Sirius downed his coffee. Cassy stared in shock before ducking her head down to her own drink. Faintly, she thought she heard a noise of pain, but Sirius was all ready standing to make himself another. He waved his wand to light heat the kettle once more and it began softly whistling as he piled his mug full with coffee.

He is going to crash painfully, thought Cassy warily.

'I am sorry for waking you up so early,' she said again.

Without looking at her, Sirius waved his hand dismissively. 'I have to clean anyway. It's all I have been doing lately, but there does not seem to be much progress. Dumbledore thinks it's too dangerous for me to go outside. He reckons Peter will have told Voldemort about my animagus form by now.'

Cassy frowned. The only way she had passed the summer was to wander aimlessly around London. The idea of being locked inside, especially this house, was unthinkable.

'Can you not just Dissolution yourself?' she asked.

'I have thought about it, but if I was caught I would be too much of a liability to the Order to be able to justify it. I would need a good reason to leave,' he grumbled with a heavy sigh. He stirred his coffee in disinterest. 'Things might pick up when other people start staying here frequently. The Weasleys will be here in three days.'

'That could only serve you make you more gloomy though. Personally, I find crowds worse when I am unhappy,' she said, stretching out on a limb to keep the conversation flowing. 'I hate being forced into conversation when I want to be alone, it makes me irritated with too many people hurrying about.'

Sirius laughed. 'You certainly don't get that from your mother and probably not me either, actually.'

Cassy's head shot up at the mention of her mother, but nothing more came of it. Slowly, she turned the mug in her hands and chose to scour the kitchen. It was manoeuvrable, but she was doubtful that they could fit all the Weasleys in around the rubbish. Contrary to her words, she was quite pleased with the prospect of seeing them all again. Curiosity peaked at the thought of being able to see the extent of Fred and George's investments with Harry's winnings. Ginny had mentioned they had been more secretive, explosions and bangs from their room, so she knew they must be making good progress. She had also said they had become a nightmare with their newly licensed Apparition skills.

Cassy and Sirius talked lightly while they cleaned, neither needing or wanting breakfast so early in the morning. They stacked boxes and labelled them for the curb. Most of their conversation revolved around the various creatures that he had discovered nesting in the house, or Cassy's frequent questions of where he wanted something placed. He was relieved to find Cassy had two house-elves eager for work and she set them off around the kitchen immediately, levitating boxes and scrubbing surfaces with an unnatural enthusiasm.

As Cassy rummaged through the unmarked bottles beneath the sink, she asked something that had been bothering her for a while, 'Why is Harry not allowed to know of the Order when he is the one who has faced Voldemort four times?'

Sirius' movements visibly slowed and his voice became tense. 'Dumbledore seems to feel that Harry should remain as innocent as possible in this, you all should. He is not keen for anyone to know more than they need to about the upcoming war.'

Just as before, Cassy failed to miss the bitterness he spoke of the Headmaster with.

'Does that mean you will try and keep me in the dark?' she asked, an edge crept into her voice that quite clearly let him know he would have a struggle. She raised one of her eyebrows and turned to him, but in contrast to her expectations he was not scowling, but grinning.

'Well, information was said to be at the desecration of the parent... so it depends on how much cleaning you get done today, I think,' he teased.

Cassy thought that had about as much bargaining power as telling her she would be grounded if she tried. It had absolutely none. She would find out one way or another and the dubious expression on her face only sent Sirius into a fit of laughter.

Many hours later, the doorbell rang and Kitsy popped out of the kitchen to answer it. The sound was shrill and there was a faint echo of Wulburga cursing up in the hallway, but neither Black sought to silence her. There was a shout and Sirius called back, directing the visitor to the kitchen. A head of brown hair and a scarred face appeared at the top of the stairs.

'How are things down here then?' called Remus.

'You are late,' reprimanded Sirius. 'Where were you when we started work at six?'

'Six?' repeated Remus incredulously. 'Afternoon, Cassy.'

Cassy returned the greeting with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Her hands twirled the bottles they held and she was a moment away from darting from the room with the excuse to wash up for lunch. Seeing Remus suddenly a rush of embarrassment surge through her bones. It was only when they had been interrupted had Cassy realised how comfortable she had become that morning with her father, when she had been so uncomfortable hours prior. Although a lingering drop of guilt trickled through her, she found nothing like the rage she had had the day before. She had simply forgotten to feel uneasy

Her stomach gave a low rumble and Sirius clapped his hand on her shoulder, making her jump.

'I will start lunch now then. I will not promise a banquet, but I swear it will be better than yesterday now that Remus had brought us more food,' he said, rummaging through the paper bags Cassy had failed to hear be set on the table. 'Although, anything is better to me after eating mainly rats for two years, yet I do think I was spoilt by the Hogwarts' food you and Harry sent me in the winter.'

After washing her hands, Cassy sat at the table and watched Sirius and Remus try to coordinate their cooking skills. Neither seemed to have a great expectation of the other and Cassy was certain she was going to end up with two meals squashed tastelessly into one when they were done. She almost mentioned letting Plum or Kitsy cook, but their bickering was far more amusing and Cassy had a mental bet who would be the first on the floor with the way the pair kept nudging each other out of their stations.

The radio bumbled on in the background. She had brought it down from her room and Sirius had complained about 'today's music' and Cassy thought back to the records in Alphard's loft. Unknown bands and singers with worn, faded labels with Sirius' name scrawled across them. The music continued to ring out, giving way to the news. It was bland. There was nothing important to report. There were no attacks, or missing wizards, strange acts at all, only a street that had sprung a leak and shut down shopping for the day.

Cassy mentally noted that she needed to speak to Harry and inform him about everything she had found so far.

'...So Mrs Longbottom will be here for the next meeting to,' said Remus and Cassy turned to him, having missed the beginning of the conversation.

'Will Neville be here?' she asked keenly.

'Every time she is, by the looks of things. She seems to think it will be good for him. After all, his parent's were involved themselves. I think that's why she accepted Dumbledore's invitation, actually,' said Remus. 'Molly will be another story entirely though. Whenever we mention about it she is adamant that her children aren't to know anything at all. I agree that people within the Order should be kept out of it, but...'

'If you give nothing at all it will only spur them on to know more,' finished Sirius.

Remus spared a glance over his shoulder to Cassy. He had not wanted to say it in front of her in case she thought they were trying to pacify her with information, but she all ready knew that. Just because they told her some things, did not mean she would ever stop striving to know it all and she had a feeling the Weasleys would help her greatly with that.

* * *

><p>The clock had just struck ten when the front door opened and half a dozen voices filled the air. A shrill scream punctuated it, their voices having disturbed Wulburga and faintly Sirius could be heard trying to wrestle the curtain back over her portrait.<p>

Cassy wiped her hands and stood, looking over to Tonks as she did the same. Tonks' hair was stark white, having taken on the colour of the thick dust that lined the bedroom they were cleaning. In the past three days, most of the rooms they needed had been decontaminated, free of living creatures, but not cleaned. Old artefacts and questionable items still lay scattered through each room, but there was a considerably decrease in the chance that anyone would wake with doxy bites. Cassy discarded her gloves on the top of a box and made her way downstairs. Tonks followed behind her.

'Cassy!' came Ginny's cheerful shout over all the noise. Wulburga turned to shout about Cassy as Ginny jumped up the stairs to hug her tightly. 'How are you?'

'Fine, thank-you,' she said shortly. 'Good morning, everyone.'

'Morning,' came a range of voices.

The curtain was draped over Wulburga and Sirius ushered everyone down into the kitchen, eyeing Fred and George carefully as they flicked at the edge of the drape, looking very much like they wanted to give the shouting match another go. Tonks shut the kitchen door behind her and everyone gathered around the table. Their luggage had been left in the hall, but Mrs Weasley had brought various bags of fresh fruit and vegetables, cuts of meat and a variety of other foodstuff the house was in desperate need of.

She had barely placed the bags on the table when she doubled back around the table and captured Cassy in a fierce embrace.

'Cassy! It is good to see you. You are still much too thin. You need to eat better, but that's not to worry about now. I here to make sure you eat enough,' said Mrs Weasley warmly, pulling away just enough to inspect Cassy's face.

Somewhere behind her, Sirius made a throaty noise of protest.

Mr Weasley nodded his head at her and she returned it in kind. Cassy inclined her head away and listened carefully to the footsteps sounding softly overhead. The door opened and golden shoes slipped into view. Matching golden robes with paler, quivering suns splattered across. The long, white beard of Albus Dumbledore came into view and he nodded at everyone, smiling.

'I see everyone got here just fine,' he said.

'A little late, thanks to the boys, but safe enough,' said Mr Weasley, casting a long glance at Fred and George, who were carefully looking away.

'Not followed, I presume?'

'Not to our knowledge,' he replied.

'Good, good,' said Professor Dumbledore. He took a seat at the long table and everyone followed suit. Cassy sat between Ginny and her father. Sirius looked as if he was trying to work out which of the Weasley children were who from Cassy's explanations.

'Would you like some tea, Professor?' asked Tonks.

While she stood and counted the number of cups required for everyone, the group burst out into pockets of chatter. Fred and George had their eyes on the many boxes and Ginny was watching Tonks curiously. She dropped the kettle noisily into the sink and turned back to grin at Cassy quite unabashedly. Mrs Weasley looked on warily and then smiled softly.

'Do you need a hand, dear?' she questioned.

'No, no, I do this all the time. I'm quite used to it by now,' Tonks replied cheerfully.

Mrs Weasley looked desperate to help, but she sat back down.

'I thought I would just see how things were coming along here. Tomorrow, I thought it would be best to have a meeting to introduce some of the new members and catch up on the last two weeks, especially as you will both be free to attend,' said Professor Dumbledore.

'Yes, yes,' said Mrs Weasley quickly. She looked around the table to check if any of the children had heard and while they all faced other directions pretending to be interested in other things, they had each heard and sly glances between each of the teens told them all that it was something to be discussed later.

'I assure you, the notion of only those of age _and_ in the Order stands,' said Professor Dumbledore knowingly.

'We'll join!' chimed Fred and George eagerly.

'We keep asking,' said Fred.

'But mum keeps saying no. We're of age though,' added George.

'Your mother is in charge of weather you can join, since you are still in education, I am afraid,' chuckled Professor Dumbledore.

Cassy caught Sirius' eye, silently imploring for him to follow through and tell her what he would find. He held her gaze for several moments, before looking back to the conversation.

'How is Harry, Albus?' asked Mr Weasley.

'Perfectly fine, according to reports,' he said and Cassy's eyebrows began to drift upwards. 'The watch is still under way.'

Cassy, with her eyebrows raised as high as physically possible, asked, 'Does he know he is being watched?'

Professor Dumbledore turned to her and calmly stared over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. His eyes were duller than usual, lacking much of their usual spark, as if Cassy had stepped on particularly precarious grounds. She could not find it in her to care and continued to stare at his expectantly.

'No,' he said softly. 'It is better if Harry remains oblivious to what is occurring around him. It would only worry him and force him to fear something might be lurking outside his doorstep.'

Cassy let out a laugh, an unnatural sound between between horror and amusement. Mrs Weasley fidgeted at the noise, but Sirius did not move and instead watched her closely. Cassy's hands balled tightly into fists beneath the table.

'This is your idea of protecting him? Treating him like a fragile child, incapable of comprehending the truth?' she laughed, her voice an octave higher than before.

'Cassy, dear, now, Dumbledore does know best - ' began Mrs Weasley placidly, but Cassy rounded on her with another laugh.

'I know him best!' she said feircely. 'I know that he will not appreciate being treated like a child, not after having faced Voldemort – oh, do not flinch, you are supposed to be the resistance – and he will think you have abandoned him, the one person who is supposed to be supporting him! This ban on information is ludicrous – security is one thing, but one of you could speak to him as if he was a living being, not a toy. Once you lose his trust and being kept in the dark is a quick way to fuel his rage, then you will not get it back, no matter how good your reason.'

Her head turned between all of the adults as she spoke, each of them watched, stunned. Professor Dumbledore watched with a placid face, but his eyes were colder, more severe. Mrs Weasley had her hands gripped tightly at her skirt and her husband had one hand over his mouth. Remus looked down at the table and Sirius was nodding his head ever so slightly in agreement. Tonks simply looked shocked, her mouth open.

'She's right, you know,' interjected Sirius. 'Harry is not a child. He saw Voldemort return. He deserves to know what is going on.'

'He's a child, Sirius,' said Mrs Weasley quickly.

'He will not be a child forever,' said Sirius.

'There's no need to scare him though,' bit out Mrs Weasley.

'Scare him? You know what is scary? Not knowing what is outside your door, but knowing something is there! That is scary. How are they to feel safe if they know nothing at all? How are they to cope if something goes wrong?' Sirius' words were clipped and loud. He was barely restraining his anger and Cassy knew then for sure that the annoyance she had felt towards him yesterday had been utterly unfounded. He was on her side.

'Hopefully nothing will go wrong,' came the calm voice of Arthur Weasley. 'However, right now we can't say too much because we simply don't know enough to. We can't tell the children half-truths and theories. It won't do anyone any good.'

Sirius grit his teeth.

Cassy breathed out heavily. 'You may ignore me if you wish, but if you knew anything of Harry's home life, then you would understand that he is better off here and not with those Muggles.' With those final words, Cassy strode from the kitchen without so much as a backwards glance. There was too much she wanted to say and it was fortunate her father had backed her, or else she felt as though her cool words would have become furious demands and unreasonable bites. The Headmaster had visibly cooled at her interjection and she would certainly have to apologise for snapping at Mrs Weasley tomorrow. It felt almost ridiculous though, she had to admit, that despite everything Harry had gone through involving Voldemort, the four times he had tried to kill him in the past years, three of which had been during the school year, that no one would think it appropriate to let Harry know they were watching out for him. He could know that, at least.

Not found of the possibility of bursting into a righteous rage at the dinner table, Cassy vowed to find a more constructive and quiet outlet for her irritation in the future.

There was a knock on her bedroom door. She did not answer. She sat with her legs drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, waiting for the person to give up and leave. There was a slight click and she moved her eyes to watch the key turn in the hole.

Sighing, she frowned as Tonks stepped inside and closed the door again; she ignored Cassy's thunderous face and took a seat on the end of her bed.

'So,' she said, 'that was quite the telling-off.'

Cassy continued to frown at her.

'You shouldn't pent up rage like that.'

'I am always angry, Tonks. If I did not keep it then I would be a very unfavourable conversation partner,' she said quietly.

'I was angry when I lost my grandmother a few years ago,' admitted Tonks, shifting closer to her on the bed. 'I always lost my temper and I know that that's hard to imagine, but...'

Grief was sadness, it was not anger. She was not angry at him for dying, nor was she angry at anything, she was angry at _everything_.

'You know, Dumbledore does know what he is doing, even if it seems a little strange,' said Tonks carefully.

'Yet, he does not seem to think of Harry at all,' she said bitterly and Tonks shook her head quickly.

'No, no. He is doing this because he does care for him. He cares for him very much and he wants Harry to be as normal as possible for as long as possible. He is not trying to hurt him, not at all. In fact, I think what you said hit him hard. He left as I was coming up here. Your dad was about to come and speak to you, but he got into a bit of a debate about what you said and got sidetracked.'

'Who disagrees then?' asked Cassy flatly.

'It's not like that, Cassy, really. No one wants anyone getting into trouble or fighting something you are not ready to fight. It's just worry, but no one disagrees that Harry deserves to know most of all, it's just complicated.'

'I helped get past the challenges to get the Philosopher's stone. I was the only person, teachers included, to figure out what lay in the Chamber of Secrets. I can handle knowing what is out there, Tonks,' she said icily. This conversation was becoming dry and Cassy did not care for it. She looked towards the window and across the road, watching the people in the house opposite flit about their living room.

'No one is disputing that, but no one wants to take action where we have to put under-aged lives in danger,' she said imploringly. 'Enough of that, you said you know a lot about Harry Potter. If you know the most, go ahead and explain everything about him to me.'

There was a long silence before Cassy sighed and uncurled. She crossed her legs and put her hands in her lap, thinking hard of where to begin. In the end, she began with his appearance. From his messy, thick black hair to his pale skin, his wiry build and his startling, almond-shaped green eyes. She went over how his round glasses were constantly being broken during Quidditch and how he would always risk his life to ensure they won. His sarcasm was prevalent and his flat humour had Tonks giggling as she listened. Finally, she concluded with his bravery and his selflessness, recounting each of their journeys together over the years, something she had not told any adult. To her relief, Tonks marvelled at them, remarking how it made her own school life seem terribly boring. When she was finished, Tonks watched her for a long time, smiling unnervingly until Cassy began to frown.

'You really like him don't you? Like, _really_ like him,' teased Tonks knowingly.

'Out,' said Cassy immediately. 'Get out my room.'

Tonks threw her head back and cackled loudly. 'It's fine! We're friends, we can talk about this. Besides, between you and me, Remus is pretty cute.'

Cassy stared at her blankly. She knew Tonks had been surveying Remus at the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Lots of Sirius and Cassy bonding and conflicting emotion, anger and whatever else teenage angst is made of. I would be pretty angry myself if no one wanted to tell me anything and I understand Harry's rage in this year, as much as it would have made me want to smack some sense into him. Everyone else was being pretty passive about it. <strong>

**I changed my mind about just updating chapter three. I quite liked this one, so I thought I'd put it up too. **

**Tell me what you think. Also, to Kaylee13133, thanks for saying this is your favourite OC/Harry Potter story. I'm really glad because I used to read them a lot and I remember some good ones, so competition is tough!**

**Thanks!**


	5. Fred and George's Extendable Ears

C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl

**Chapter V: Fred and George's Extendable Ears**

Boxes were piled high, unlabelled and over filled. It was almost as if someone had begun clearing a decade ago and gave up soon after, resorting to careless jumbles of objects in box after box and between carefully wrapped and sorted boxes; clearly they had the intention of going somewhere and it was these boxes that Cassy always had more of an interest in. They usually had the most obscure and questionable items within. Although, Cassy was always careful to handle everything with thick gloves covering her hands. The summer heat made it almost unbearable, but after watching Mundungus Fletcher almost dragged backwards into a stuff cupboard by a long, thin tentacle, bruising and swelling his exposed leg, the Weasley children had ceased their jokes about it and had scavenged their own pairs too.

Cassy pushed the box of hissing goblets further under the table in favour of sorting through old, unfinished portraits that had been stuffed behind a lavish, if sun-bleached, sofa. She turned, her hand resting on the half dropped face of a particularly mean-spirited man, it was easy to tell what he would have said to her if he had ever been completed and she was very relieved he had not been, given he seemed to be holding a sketched severed head of some kind of beast.

Mrs Weasley looked down at her from the doorway and smiled.

'Cassy, dear, can you go and fetch Fred and George to get their coats from the kitchen? It's almost lunch and they're in the way. I would do it myself, but there is a particularly nasty doxy nest in one of the bedrooms, Ron was bitten last night all over his toes! Anyway, please tell them to retrieve their things manually. They need to stop trying to fix all their problems with magic,' she said, her voice growing increasingly exasperated at the end.

'Of course, Mrs Weasley,' said Cassy, dusting off her gloves.

'Thank-you, dear,' she said brightly and bustled back down the hall.

Throwing her gloves down on top of the busy table, that grunted and stomped its bowed, carved legs in protest, Cassy ambled from the room. Thuds and clanks had sounded overhead not long ago and so it was inevitable the twins were in their room, as far away from cleaning as possible without their mother catching them.

There was a faint scratching from within. Immediately, it was silenced as Cassy's loud knock echoed down the empty hall. She knocked again, before twisting the handle and pushing forcefully against the door. There was no lock on their door, Sirius had been unable to find the key, and hoards of collected Black Family memorabilia clattered noisily across the wooden floor as she knocked down their makeshift barrier. With one hand on her hip and the other leaning on the door, Cassy surveyed the mess; cauldrons out, boxes and bottles littered the floor, and the air held a faint medicinal smell.

Fred stared up at Cassy from where he sat cross-legged on the floor, but she was looking past him towards George. He was lying on the floor, an abundance of blankets beneath him and a pillow under his head. It looked as though he was peacefully sleeping.

'I knew siblings could only happily exist for so long, you forced it and you finally killed your twin,' said Cassy, skimming her eyes over the notepad in Fred's hands. She took a seat on the bed behind him, idly searching George for abnormalities.

'Not quite, but he seems to have caught something from handling one of those tapestries, a nasty headache,' said Fred. He hand slipped slowly down to his side and he tucked the notebook beneath him.

'And how does lying on the hard floor help that?' she asked.

'Er – I'm not sure. We found it out when we were kids, George always used to get migraines, you see. It is one of those things,' shrugged Fred. He stared at her and Cassy stared back, her eyes half-lidded.

'If he caught anything from this house,' said Cassy after a pause, 'I should inform your mother. He will probably die.'

'No, no,' he said quickly.

'Oh, yes, I think I best get your mother from downstairs,' said Cassy, standing.

'He's fine!'

'Anyone who sleeps willingly on the floor is not fine,' said Cassy resolutely. 'He must be dying.'

Fred leapt to his feet and hauled her back towards the bed. He dropped her sitting on there and hovered in front of her, his face close to hers and his hands clamped tightly on her shoulders. Quietly, he spoke, his face strangely serious, but Cassy stared up with a face of shock.

'Look, we're testing some products that we want to sell. They're called "Fainting Fancies" - at least, that's what we were thinking of. We were going to include them in the Skiving Snackboxes we are designing, courtesy of your suggestion last year,' he explained.

Cassy's face slipped from shocked to utterly pleased. A large grin spread across her face and Fred stared indignantly for a moment before snorting.

'You were never going to tell mum were you?' he said, slumping back down to collect his notepad from the floor.

'I was,' she said casually. 'I was also going to keep mentioning things to her until the pair of you crumbled and told me what you were planning. Although, it was not difficult to assume it was for your joke shop.'

Fred turned to her in surprise. The amused expression he had worn at her explanation fell.

'How do you know about that?' he asked quickly.

'Harry mentioned to me that he gave you his Triwizard Tournament winnings,' she said.

'Does anyone else know?'

'Not to my knowledge.'

'Good,' said Fred with a large exhale. 'It will ruin the surprise and if it ever got out to mum...'

Cassy laughed. She peered back down at George, who had not moved an inch during all of their conversation.

'Should he still be on the ground?' she questioned curiously.

'Er – well, the cancellation sweet we had designed wasn't quite powerful enough to bring him back round, but I can't give him another one because some of the stuff in the prototype is not good for people in large quantities. He'll wake up soon though, the dose wasn't that high, we didn't want to end up killing the first years,' he said, scratching the back of his head.

With raised eyebrows, Cassy exited the room after telling him of his mother's message. As soon as she was out the door, there was a pop that let her know he had apparated down to the kitchen against his mother's wishes, but as Cassy could hear her muffled complaints down the hall as she went to return to what would be Ginny's room, she knew Mrs Weasley would never know.

The room was not the largest, but it only made it more difficult to clean. There was barely any room to manoeuvre and although a pathway had been cleared to the bed, neither Mr nor Mrs Weasley had been comfortable with allowing Ginny to sleep somewhere so crowded and in a room with many possible inhabitants. The previous night had been spent sharing Cassy's room and although Cassy had sent Kitsy to help clean, he had spent more time bickering with Kreacher than anything else.

'Stupid house-elf, unworthy of the Black family, of cleaning the Mistress' boots,' grumbled Kreacher as he dragged a blanket piled with items from the room Cassy had been about to enter. Without taking a step close, she could hear the low growl of Kitsy.

'How can Kreacher say Kitsy is not worthy, when Kitsy has also served the Black family his entire life? Kreacher was never kind to Kitsy, not even when Kitsy was only up to his mother's elbow. Uncle Kreacher never liked his nephews much,' he grumbled, making sure to slam items into the bin bags more violently than before.

'Ignore him, Kitsy,' said Cassy calmly. 'Kreacher is unwell.'

'Oh, no, Mistress. Kreacher has been mad ever since Kitsy's mother got her head mounted on the wall before he did!' said Kitsy firmly, shaking his head.

Cassy did not entirely understand house-elf relations, or sometimes hardly that of her own family, so she declined to comment further. Softly, she heard Ron mutter 'they're all bloody deranged' as he passed with a spray-bottle in hand, which she ignored in favour of eyeing his hair critically.

'I see you got the slime of of your hair then?' she commented.

'Yeah, it wasn't too bad. It only took about three washes, but Ginny's having much more trouble. She's still in the bathroom. Damn spitting plants,' he said with a sigh. His hand had automatically reached for his hair and it lingered there long after he had finished speaking. His eyes darted around the hall, his lips slowly inward as he licked them.

'Hey, Cassy,' he said slowly.

'Yes?' she prompted.

'Do you... nevermind.' He shrugged and turned to move away.

'Do I what?' she said with a frown.

He turned back to her with a matching one of his own and his voice dropped, 'Do you ever wonder if You-Know-Who is really back?'

Cassy stared for a moment. 'You doubt Harry? You think he would have made something like that up?'

'No, no,' he exclaimed, holding his hands up in surrender. 'I never meant that! I just mean that, well, with how it happened – no witnesses and during a Tournament where he wasn't supposed to be in it anyway... don't you sometimes think people are going to doubt him? The papers are writing things about how he's a raving lunatic and how Dumbledore has lost touch... and that's all people have to go on, the word of Dumbledore. I know that if Dumbledore is making a move then it has to be true and Harry's faced You-Know-Who before and saved my sister, so I don't think he is lying at all, but... some people will.'

Cassy considered him for a time. What he had said was very true and she had thought it herself. There was no reason for the world to trust the words of a teenage boy, one who had been reported to have entered himself into a dangerous tournament. He might have brought back a body, but it was one from the centre of a deadly stunt, made to test the capabilities of those who entered; everyone knew it had death plastered all across it. Cedric Diggory could have died in many ways and Harry could easily have been so shocked by what he saw that he mistakenly thought whatever creature had been lurking in the darkest corner of the maze had been Voldemort, the man who haunted the supposed dreams of his parents in Rita Skeeter's less than flattering articles. No one had reason to believe him and many would not want to try to find one. Peace was favourable to war and many of those who had lived it the first time would not be eager to think it again returning.

'I find it undeniable that Voldemort has returned,' she ignored his flinch and continued in a placid expression. 'After the Philosopher's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets, I cannot deny that it is possible for him to rise again. Once dead, a man should remain so, not living like a parasite from another man's head, or as a physical manifestation of teenage memories, draining the life from others. He is holding on somehow and I do not need Harry to convince me he has returned.

'It will mean a lot for Harry if you support him. He all ready fears that he is not being taken seriously with the secrecy of this Order. Please try not to express doubt to him. I fear he will not take it well.'

Ron slowly nodded and pursed his lips.

'I believe him and so does Dean, but I was writing to Seamus over the holiday and he doesn't at all. It's his mum telling him he isn't back. We all believe him, but not Percy – he left when we started to be watched. Fudge offered him a promotion to work as his personal assistant,' he said sullenly.

Cassy was only mildly surprised. She had expected the Weasleys to be closer than that.

There was an angry hiss from behind her. Ginny had exited the bathroom, her wet hair tied in a tight bun on the back of her head.

'Dad said it was to spy on the family, that was the only reason he had been promoted,' she growled.

'Percy said that was a load of rubbish. He blamed Dad for the family being... a little hard up sometimes. He said he should have tried to progress, but he got himself stuck where he is,' continued Ron.

'Which is a load of rubbish, Dad just loves muggles,' said Ginny, scowling.

'Percy packed his bags and hasn't come back since. We haven't heard anything off him. He doesn't want to associate with people who allied themselves with Dumbledore,' finished Ron quietly. 'Mum's distraught, so we don't mention him if we can help it.'

'I just assumed he was working,' said Cassy. She looked between the two scowling red-heads and then back down the hall where she knew Mrs Weasley was cleaning. There was still a quiet banging and the sharp hiss of disinfectant that signalled she had not heard a word of what they had said.

As Cassy gazed down the hall thoughtfully, Ginny had had a concern of her own.

'Have you heard of anything while you have been here?' she asked, her voice hushed.

'Probably not much more than you did last night,' said Cassy honestly. 'There was only one formal meeting since I have been here, although people drop in frequently. My father mentioned the meeting intended for today has been moved to tomorrow. Apparently, the Headmaster had some important meeting to attend at the Ministry today and he was unsure when he would return.'

'So we have to wait another day for information then,' said Ron morosely. 'I'm dying to know what's going on. Mum and Dad won't give a knut away -'

'And with good reason!' came Mrs Weasley's shrill voice from behind. Everyone turned and she stood with her hands on her hips. 'You have no business knowing, you are too young and you three should be cleaning, not standing here chatting about things beyond your years.'

Cassy flatly thought she would cope very fine actually, but she just turned away and went back into the bedroom she had been attempted to clean half-an-hour earlier. There was little desire within her to argue with Mrs Weasley. It would achieve nothing and Cassy was all ready intending to reply on her father for information. Grumbling, Ron and Ginny followed her in. Although Ron was supposed to be helping his mother in his room, she did not seem to care where he ended up, so long as he was cleaning something somewhere. They listened to her shuffle back into the other room.

'See? She's not going to let us know anything at all, unless we find out for ourselves,' said Ginny, shifting to dislodge the large pile of papers on the table.

There was a pop from the corner of the room.

'I see George has recovered from his headache,' said Cassy conversationally, not looking up from the box she was rummaging through.

'Much better,' replied Fred. 'Anyway, we couldn't help overhearing that delightful conversation you three had with our mother.'

'We think we might have a solution to the information issue,' added George, grinning widely.

'But we have a slight issue: Mum expects us to have made a good start on one of the rooms upstairs and quite honestly, we haven't touched it,' said Fred.

'So, we propose that we will share our eavesdropping technique with you - ' began George.

'If you three make a start on the room upstairs so we have time to make them,' finished Fred.

Ron frowned, his nose crinkling as he said, 'I don't see why we should do your chores because you've goofed off all morning.'

'Then, little brother, you will miss out on the meeting tomorrow and we shall tell you nothing,' said George cheerfully.

'How much of a start is a start?' asked Cassy, folding her arms across her chest. While she could rely on her father, she needed to know what he was telling her was true and it was ample. For all she knew, he could be attempting to pacify her with small bits off unimportant information. Besides, Cassy had always liked doing her own dirty work.

'Just enough to make it look like we've tried,' said George.

'Move stuff around, shove it all into bags and put it in the hall, whatever you like, just make it look like we actually went in there,' shrugged Fred. 'We're not fussy.'

Cassy, Ginny, and Ron all looked between one another and then nodded. Cassy and Ginny agreed to help Ron upstairs once they were done in Ginny's potential room, as it was slightly more pressing and Mrs Weasley would be far less impressed with the two of them failing to complete that than she would be surprised that Fred and George had not done their chores. They had cleared the second nest of beetles, ones large enough to fill a jam jar, when Ginny struck up an unexpected conversation.

'Michael Conner asked me out,' she said suddenly.

Cassy looked up in surprise. She had forgot about Ginny's date with Conner, filing it away under unimportant information in light of everything else that had happened last year. Still, she smiled at her.

'When did that happen then?' she asked.

'The end of last year, just before the holidays began,' replied Ginny cheerfully.

'You left that a while to inform me,' said Cassy playfully, but Ginny winced slightly.

'Well, just with everything else that happened, I didn't want to seem like I was bragging. Not when everyone had gone through something so terrible that year, but me.' Ginny frowned down at the sheets in her hands.

'Sometimes it is nice to hear happy news,' said Cassy placidly. Internally, she was quite thrilled for her friend and found herself smiling at her with no ulterior motive than simply being pleased for her.

The spoke about it for a while, until Sirius called up the stairs for lunch. They entered the kitchen before anyone else, watching Mrs Weasley and Sirius grimace and sneer at one another behind the other's back.

'That sounds wonderful, Molly,' said Sirius, too jovially to appear even remotely genuine.

'Well, I thought it might liven up the place a bit if we can get the Drawing Room cleared we can sit and have nice gatherings in there, a bit of natural light,' she said back, not acknowledging his plain distaste at having to enter the Drawing Room.

The radio continued to sound in the background of the meal, despite Mrs Weasley's request to have it turned off. There was rarely a time it did not play nowadays. Since Cassy had first put it in the kitchen, she had not had the heart to take it back. Her father was always beside it, listening in to the news and humming to the songs that were played repeatedly through the day. She thought it might make him feel connected to the outside world, no longer relying on strangers strolling through his front door to inform him of any possible attacks. He was always listening carefully, even to the most mundane of things.

Mundungus Fletcher joined them briefly for lunch. He spoke merrily to Fred, George and Ron, once Cassy thought to introduce everyone to him; Mrs Weasley did not seem like she appreciated it very much. Fletcher made a questionable living from petty crimes, but he knew his way around London and he was good at finding information simply because of how unassuming her was and the amalgamation of social groups that formed beneath the law. He was useful, although not wholly reliable, often appearing later than wanted and with various stolen good to deposit in the house to add to the mess. Sirius quite enjoyed his stories though and the boys were roaring with laughter over lunch, before he excused himself to exchange for the watch.

What Cassy had appreciated most in the time she had spent with her father before the Weasleys came to stay, was his complete lack of motivation to make her clean any more than he was. With his enthusiasm for the house so low as it was, he had no drive to uproot old memories and Cassy had never been ushered from one room to another with a duster in hand if she had not wanted to be.

As it was, Mrs Weasley was quite determined to keep them busy. From lunch through to dinner, the teens were to clean. Cassy loathed it silently, spending more time rummaging than actually clearing and allowing her house-elves to follow around after her, complaining and scolding her for having stuck her hands in such dirty boxes at all. She had never seen Ron quite so happy when she entered the room her was cleaning for Fred and George with them trailing in behind Ginny.

It was only after dinner that they were allowed to retreat to their own devices. Cassy had ushered everyone into her room, handing Ron the mirror. He stared blankly at it for a moment, until Harry's face appeared instead of his own.

'Oh, bloody hell. This is good, isn't it?' exclaimed Ron in shock.

Harry was soon enticed into a lengthy conversation with the Weasleys. As they had not heard all of his stories before, he was able to complain about the Dursleys and his glum summer all over again. Fred and George offered to send him some things to sort out his cousin and while Harry declined, Cassy could almost envision the large grin on his face as he did from where she sat at her desk.

Everyone took turns explaining again and again how slow and terrible it was, how they had known of nothing and were still being kept in the dark. Cassy was confident it would do something to ease his bitter mood, although in the back of her mind she could still hear him complaining about being alone and there was nothing she could do to fix that beyond urge the Order of the Phoenix to take him in. After her tantrum yesterday, she did not think Professor Dumbledore would be particularly open to negotiate with her.

At the end of the long conversation, everyone turned to Cassy, marvelling and wondering were the two-way mirrors came from. She grinned mischievously for a moment, then looked between them seriously. They could not tell anyone of the mirror, she stressed, it was her only way to communicate freely with Harry. If anyone found out they might take it from her to prevent the passing of information, or worse, assume it might fall into the wrong hands and thus was a danger. Everyone nodded quickly and quickly agreed to secrecy, on the condition they could use it when they pleased.

Cassy hummed non-comitantly.

* * *

><p>The following day passed much the same. Time was wrapped up in mindless cleaning, which seemed to make little to no difference and by the end of the day Cassy was certain, as she looked around the room she had spent the day confined in, that their efforts had simply made more of a mess.<p>

Cassy had spent as much time as she could looting rooms of their old photographs, although Wulburga seemed to be lacking in the sentiment. Some of them she had seen before in her great aunt Cassiopeia's house following her death. She kept slipping them into her pocket, or back into her room when no one was watching her, much in the same way she caught Fred and George stashing beetle shells and spider eggs away when their mother was facing the other way.

Dinner had almost arrived when the portrait of the deceased matron began to scream, she cursed and wailed, eventually giving way to the curtains hurriedly drawn across her frame. Tonks winked up at Cassy as she entered; Moody nodded to her; Kingsley appraised the students in turn; Professor Dumbledore smiled up at them, and a whole bundle of strangers tumbled in after them. Amongst the rabble, the very last to arrive, was Mrs Longbottom and Neville.

Neville beamed when he saw them, bidding his grandmother farewell and racing up to the landing to greet everyone in turn. Cassy was quickly squashed against him and Ginny had her turn next, returning the hug just as forcefully. Ron clapped his shoulder and the twins nodded. Then, Neville suddenly frowned.

'Is Harry not here?' he asked.

'They're keeping him locked up with his relatives' answered Ginny.

Neville frowned deep and cast a knowing glance at Cassy, who merely tensed her eyes. He caught the gesture, his expression growing grimmer. Neville was no more fond of Harry's relatives than she was.

Everyone allowed Mrs Weasley to usher them down the hall. As soon as she descended to the kitchen, they were all at the railings of the stairs again. Hurriedly, Fred and George extracted long, fleshy coils of tube from their pocket, holding one out for Cassy, who took it gingerly, before scampering up to their own landing above. They did not give a reason, but Cassy thought it might be that if anyone happened to emerge, they would be out of sight long before the four on the floor below.

Reluctantly, Cassy placed the tube near her ear and Neville, Ginny, and Ron battled for the best position to listen in too. Heads clacked together and Cassy waved her hand impatiently as sound began to channel up the tube.

' - A few people who are keeping tabs on the lower Auror members. I am certain I know who they are, but they seem unaware of me. I have found no one tailing me like the others,' came Kingsley's deep voice.

'There seems to be no signs of active recruitment though,' said Tonks lightly. 'No one being tailed has been approached from what I know and the person following me to and from work on odd days has never approached me. Occasionally, I have to pretend to be Cassy and leave the house like that. It stops him following me and prevents the Ministry from realising she isn't there.'

Cassy quirked an eyebrow at the idea of Tonks gallivanting around London as herself.

'We have been trying to test who would be good to try and persuade, but it is difficult with Tonks being followed as she is. We think we have a few though.'

'It's more important that you two stay hidden than recruiting members right now,' said Moody in a gruff voice. 'It'll be much harder to keep an eye on things if we lose two of our eyes. How are things on your end, Arthur?'

'Reasonably. I am still under observation most of the time, but a lot of the people in the office seem to take no notice of it. If they do, they seem annoyed by the Ministry, so they're doing us a favour,' stated Mr Weasley, sounding quite pleased.

'It's not going to be easy in the Ministry at the moment for anyone, especially not to gather new members. Fudge is terrified and on high alert. The search for you, Sirius, has been increased you know. I am on new orders to track you down by any means and no longer on friendly terms,' said Kingsley seriously. 'The measures we have been issues as means to bring you are not negotiable either.'

'Oh? So, the time of wanting me to have a trial are over then?' asked Sirius, not sounding at all surprised. 'I suppose it is because he wants to show he is still racking in the criminals, despite what is said to be going on.'

'That's terrible,' came a witches voice Cassy did not recognise. 'He knows you're innocent, he saw the entire thing!'

'Yes, but the rest of the country doesn't know that, do they? People will surely back Fudge if he is seen to be dealing with such a problem,' said Sirius bitterly.

Cassy scowled at the news. She was not surprised though. After Fudge had failed to offer her father a better deal than a cell in Azkaban as he talked in Professor Dumbledore's office on the night of the revelation, Cassy had not faith in the man to have any fairness over his own popularity. He could have gone to the press, for the word of respected teachers and the Minister of Magic would surely be enough to ensure fair treatment to see Sirius to trial. Fudge had no sense beyond his own preservation.

'I have told him you might be in Tibet,' said Kingsley.

'At least I have managed to convince a new bank worker of the cause. I believe Dumbledore all ready knows her, her name is Fluer Delacour,' chimed Bill.

'Delacour?' mouthed Cassy.

Ron nodded faintly, his eyes all ready becoming misty, while Ginny screwed up her nose.

'The two have been talking a lot. She is _improoving 'er Eenglish_,' muttered Ginny.

'She seems interested, especially after being a Champion herself. She says there is no way that Cedric died and Harry lied about it. She is quite fond of Harry,' continued Bill.

I bet she is, thought Cassy, Harry offered to fight off a hoard of merpeople to rescue her sister last year. It was the sort of offer than instantly made someone popular; in this case, it was not a bad thing. They needed all the help they could get and if the Triwizard Cup had chosen Fluer Delacour as the most worthy Beauxbatons student, then she must have some brain and skill behind her.

The meeting devolved into theoretical murmurings after that. There was a few cases of the known Death Eaters acting perfectly ordinarily, occasionally stepping out unexpectedly, but always returning shortly after with no sign of nervousness or anger. There was nothing to suggest they had been meeting and none of the times of these disappearances matches enough to think that they had.

Their voices faded out and there was the low scraping back of a seat. Professor Dumbledore's voice rang out through the kitchen, thanking them all for coming and dismissing the meeting at last.

Quickly, the fleshy tubes were wretched upwards. Everyone hurried down the landings. Cassy, Neville, Ginny, and Ron stuffed into her room and the tube was thrown under the bed. They took up seats around, launching into a conversation quickly as the door opened and Mrs Weasley popped her smiling head inside.

'Dinner will only be in a minute now, so come down down,' she said. She ducked back out of the room and presumably to inform Fred and George.

'This room is nice,' praised Neville, inspecting it thoroughly.

'It is mine,' said Cassy redundantly as she stood. She looked at Ginny. 'Those inventions of your brothers feel like I was squeezing someone's earlobe.'

'They are great, whatever they are,' said Ginny with a grin.

At the table, sat Sirius, Remus, Mr Weasley, Moody, Kingsley, and Tonks with drinks in their hands and cutlery set in front of them. Many plates were lined across the kitchen counter and Mrs Weasley was all ready busy beginning to dish out the dozens of pots and pans of food onto each.

Tonks waved Cassy over into the spare seat beside her. On her other side was Remus and beside him was Sirius. More importantly, opposite her was Moody. Getting straight to the point, Cassy levelled her eyes with his.

'Moody, do you mind if I ask you some questions about something I read?' she said conversationally.

'Go ahead,' he said with genuine interest.

Folding her arms on the table top, she asked, 'I was reading about spells that do not produce a visible force, such as the Cruciatus, or Imperious curses. With them and others, is there a way to block or detect when they are coming? When done in conjunction with non-verbal incantations, it would be impossible until they have struck.'

Moody was leaning forward across the table after her first sentence, listening intently as Mrs Weasley chocked on her tea off to the side of the room. Sirius and Tonks also appeared to have a great interest in the answer, while Remus muttered something criticising what types of books she had been allowed to read, but also turned to listen.

'Well,' said Moody severely, his hands moving as he spoke, 'the best you can hope for is to keep moving. If you move, then you are a lot more difficult to hit. Some have tell tale signs once you have been hit, like the infamous Black Ice curse, named so because you can't see it in action. It will make your skin burn so intensely that it can be nothing else. Then, you should burn your own flesh to prevent it spreading - '

'That is quite enough over dinner! No one is burning their anything off,' interjected Mrs Weasley sharply.

'It's important she knows if she wants to stay alive,' responded Moody. 'It is great that she is so interested. This one is likely to live!'

Despite the disappointment Cassy felt at having the conversation cut short as Mrs Weasley and Bill set the dishes on the table, she fell quiet. Small pockets of conversation broke out on every side and it was then, when her father and Remus appeared to be bickering about something, that Cassy renewed her questioning. As the conversation progressed, the tone got darker and considerably more violent as Kingsley joined in with his own experiences as an Auror and Tonks, Remus, and Sirius told their own war stories. As it progressed closer to death each time as they each subconsciously tried to outdo one another with their tales, dinner was forgotten.

Moody produced the best ones. He explained how he lost a chunk from his nose, explained of deep blackened scars on his back, stretching from his shoulder-blades to the dip of his spine.

It was loudly announced not to be an appropriate topic for dinner. With half of the table engaged in the gruesome story sharing, it did eventually meet Mrs Weasley's ears and even Mr Weasley agreed with her that it should be something for another time.

'Or never,' muttered Mrs Weasley under her breath as she cleaned up the dishes and attempted to send the five children to their rooms to settle before bed in a few hours. Naturally, they piled back into Cassy's room until they were evicted at ten. They talked to Harry once more and discussed the little they had heard at the meeting with him. He wanted to know why the need for Sirius' hunt was present at all, indignant that Fudge would continue it when he knew he was innocent.

'Fudge has to appear to be trying to clear the streets,' said Cassy, far out of his line of vision as she sat at her desk as the Weasley children were all piled on her bed. 'Furthermore, he needs to capture him to give him this supposed trial he deserves.'

'He just wants to throw him in Azkaban to bolster his own publicity again,' Harry had replied grimly.

Cassy thought he was quite right, but it was a dangerous line of thought to go along right then. The last thing she needed was him to become too concerned with his Godfather's well-being; it would only serve to make him more stir-crazy than he all ready was, anxious enough to be involved that he had admitted considered simply catching the train and forcing someone to drag him back to his relatives house. At least then, he had said, someone would have to admit they were near and probably bring him to her if he threatened to do it again. While she had warned him sternly against it, Cassy could not help but think it sounded like something she would do; the two of them had dangerously similar veins of thought on occasion.

When everyone had retired to their own rooms, Cassy found the house to be uncomfortably quiet. Silence had always been a relief to her, never too fond of crowds or socialising beyond the initial purpose. Her friends were elite and few in number, the closest of whom she nearly always enjoyed the company of – excluding the select few moments her mind would begin to ache, or her anger to flare. As it was, there was a slight emptiness. The solitude she craved all summer had given way to the bizarre desire for company. Her own thoughts echoed dismally in the silence, only accompanied by the slow ticking of the clock fastened high above the fireplace.

Restlessly, she rose from her bed. A thin dressing gown was wrapped around her as her feet tucked into the slippers that sat neatly at her beside table each night. A long candlestick was plucked from beside her, lit with the strike of a match before she even considered leaving her bedroom. Cassy remembered her first evening in the house of her ancestors and she had little desire to wander blindly through the shrinking mounds of rubbish that lined the halls again, lest she bump into something more sinister than Kreacher; something that was creating the low scratching through the wall cavities perhaps.

The hall was empty. A faint snore sounded from the room opposite where Ron slept, but there was no crinkle or clinking of bags and cutlery; there was no sound of Kreacher rummaging late at night as usual. Cassy assumed he must be upstairs or down in the kitchen, tucked into his tiny cupboard where he slept on the rare occasion he was not scavenging.

Portraits muttered to themselves as she crept along the landing and down the stairs. Her grandmother's portrait was silent, yet surely only dormant, waiting for the slightest sound to set off her caterwaul screams once more.

If Kreacher was in his cupboard, Cassy saw no sign of him. She partly wanted to poke her head in and take a look at the family treasures he had surely hoarded, but she did not think the Weasley's would be nearly as understanding of her wanderings as he father had been. He did not emerge as she boiled the kettle and made herself a mug of hot chocolate. Spiders rose to join her though, crawling slowly across the yellowed walls, emerging from beneath the cabinets at the promise of not being squashed between a dozen feet for the first time in hours.

Cassy climbed back up the stairs with her candle and cocoa. At the top, she paused, turning her head to the opposite side of the staircase, the part that lead away from her room and towards the singular door that had always been closed.

It was unlocked. She slipped into the large room, larger by far than any other she had seen in the house. A grand fireplace sat against the farthest internal wall, flanked by two towering glass door cabinets. Bottles glistened in the faint candlelight, her tiny flame was scarcely enough to illuminate the barest of shapes and mounds of the decorative furniture. Cassy wandered forward carefully, passing the items on the ground with as little disruption as possible. There was a shattering moan from within the dark bureau in the corner, not unlike the groan of the cabinet Professor Lupin had carted into his classroom two years prior. Other life seemed to be breeding within the curtains, their movements giving the fabric a life of its own and the promise of vicious trouble if she was to step too near.

The cabinet held what appeared to be various snake skins and glass bottles of deep red – blood, she concluded, morbidly unsurprised. There was little boxes and figurines too, yet the flame reflecting on the glass made them difficult to discern entirely and Cassy forced herself to move away as one of the tiny silver heads turned to look at her.

The candle and mug were placed on the low table between the two ornate sofas. She doubled back around to the right wall, ripping open the least crawling curtain. A dozen Doxys scattered into the air, shrieking as they beat their thin wings and shook their extra limbs in protest as they sought cover in the other dark corners of the room. A great yellowed light shone in from the street. The lamppost on the other side of the road breathed an artificial light inside as it did for Cassy's room next door. The moon shone down in the clear night sky, casting great crossed shadows across the bare floors and up and onto the tapestry behind.

The entire wall opposite was covered in a dark green fabric. Names were littered from the ceiling to a foot from the floor. Little embroideries were made, connecting the lines of relations and descent through the whole of their traceable seven centuries. Oddly, or not as Cassy soon decided, there was burn marks littered through the names. She followed the names of Pollux and Cassiopeia over to the burn beside them. Marius had surely been there at one point, their brother the men of the Black family had struggled to identify in Cassiopeia's photographs after her death years ago.

Beside Marius' name was 'Dorea Black' and a thin line leading to 'Charlus Potter'. Cassy stared in only mild surprise. It was no secret that the Potter family had been well respected, so surely their paths had crossed at some point. The line beneath announced they had had one son together before Dorea's early death in 1977. She wondered what relation that made them to Harry, how closely they were related to him and if perhaps they had been the aunt and uncle to his father, cousins, or further relations, unknown to James at all in anything but name.

She traced the tree down again. Between Wulburga and Cygnus was a burnt patch where 'Alphard' should have been written. Alphard had always admitted that he and his sister did not always see eye to eye, that she had cursed him in anger more than once, but they still spoke until her death. Cassy's fingers lingered on the mark.

Down from him was Regulus and yet another burn. Surely where her father had once been.

'You do not sleep much, do you?'

Cassy jumped in surprise. Her head shot towards the doorway and her hand fell from the tapestry.

Crossing the gloomy room to her was her father. Sirius was still dressed in his day clothes, his hair unruffled by any effort to fall asleep.

'Most teenagers struggle to wake and you are always up. It's not natural,' he said, looking down at her with no attention to the tapestry.

'I am not tired. It is only twelve,' she said plainly.

'Half twelve,' he responded pedantically. 'Well, at least that's normal, although I think Molly will have something to say if she caught you wandering so late. She keeps her children on a tight schedule.'

'What she does not know will not hurt her,' said Cassy. She looked back at the tapestry, allowing her eyes to drift no farther down than Sirius' name. She knew she would not be on there, there would be no point even looking. To the side, she spotted Draco and Narcissa and she briefly wondered if her father would mind if she sliced their names off in a spiteful bout of rage.

'I was never allowed in here as a child,' she admitted quietly. 'I was to sit in the kitchen on the odd occasion I was left here when Alphard had work.'

'I still cannot believe he thought that was a good idea at all. I would not have let you within fifty-foot of my mother,' said Sirius. His hand slowly rose to the spot where Alphard's name should have been, much like Cassy had down moments earlier. 'He was the only one in the family I ever really liked, beside Andromeda, of course. He joked and rarely got angry, not like my parents. He had the time for me that they did not and he would always listen to my ideas, even though they were so stupid back then. You can't understand the relief I felt knowing you had been taken in by him. I worried all the time, you know, I worried that my stupid temper had landed you with my mother, or in a home... although that would be the kinder of the two.

'I had hoped that I could meet him again one day, that I could thank him, but... that depended if I was ever going to be cleared and with the way Fudge is trying to reel me in, I doubt he will allow that to happen.'

Cassy could think of nothing reasonable to respond to that. There was a pinch of relief within a barrel of guilt inside of her. Her childhood had been spent assuming this man beside her cared nothing for her, that he had thought nothing of it when she had been born - the whispers of her insecurities of not having a father growing up – that he had left her to alone while he mindlessly killed thirteen people – the echo of the other children's taunts that he did not want her ringing loudly as she aged. She was the bastard child, the half-blood carelessly born and unwanted, kept only because her mother was mad and it was his duty by law.

Yet it was not that. She had seen him concerned over the past two years, but it was something else to hear him say it.

Before she could smiled with uncharacteristic warmth, Cassy pointed to the Potters on the wall.

'Who are they?' she asked.

Sirius looked with renewed attention. 'As far as I am aware, they were James' aunt and uncle. Charlus Potter was James' dad's younger brother, by quite a bit, I think. I never met them, but James mentioned them once or twice. James' parent's were old and had him in old age even for wizarding standards, but they died around the same time as Dorea here, the same year James and Lily got married actually, before they even knew Harry was going to be born. There was nothing sinister about their deaths, they were just older, but it tore James apart.'

There was something about the shine of Sirius' eyes that made Cassy step away. She told him to wait there as she strode quickly from the room. It had not been on her agenda to do what she was about to, but the ghosts in his eyes, the familiar warmth and simultaneous chill made her reach for her bedside draw.

When she returned, Sirius was sitting on one of the uncomfortable sofas, looking quite bemused. Cassy moved to sit beside him and held out a small stack of photographs. Gingerly, he took them, halting almost immediately as he caught sight of the one on top.

'Where did you get these?' he breathed.

'From the loft at Alphard's,' she said quietly. She waited for a sign that he was pleased, but he sat in silence, a hand raised to cover his mouth.

For a time he sat, staring at the smiling faces of the two young children, before flicking through the rest of the stack. Once the photograph was back on top, he smiled lopsidedly.

'Did you know, this was the second time you and Harry ever met?' he asked and Cassy silently shook her head. 'I first took you to see when after everything was settled and I got custody, it took a couple of months, but Lily was really excited to meet you. She said you were incredibly clever for your age, not that you ever listened to what I said. Harry liked you immediately too. He sent you running straight into my legs when you arrived, charging at you from the kitchen. You were not so happy about it, but he was only trying to say hello. He could not speak that well, it was a bit before his first birthday.' Sirius' eyes had become very bright. 'You two eventually made peace after he tried to take your cracker you had hid with your stuffed bear. You gave him one from my pocket – you had a tendency to hide everything and move it to where you wanted. It would drive me crazy because I would never hear you do it, you were so quiet all the time. I thought there might be something wrong, but that was just the way you were. You were just a bit picky on what you wanted to talk about.'

Cassy smiled at him when he turned to her, a sort of half-grin pulling at his tired face, making it brighter, more youthful in an instant, yet somehow his eyes were older.

'Anyway, this is from Harry's first birthday. It was the last time I got to see him before they moved house. The Secret Keeper had to be changed because I knew Voldemort suspected me. It was just us, James, Lily, and Harry. He always wanted to go where you did and you kept looking at me with a frown, as if asking who this boy thought he was following you around! He gave you that Snitch and James was so excited. He said Harry would certainly be a seeker, he cheered so loudly at the prospect. He would be proud, so, so, proud.' His hand reached up to cover his eyes. 'There is not a single day I let myself forget that memory. It was supposed to be the start of something great, the wonderful beginning to the rest of our lives, but it was the last time I ever saw them alive.'

There was a sniff and Cassy thought for a second that he might have begun crying, but the hand moved from his eyes and although his eyes shimmered, he was smiling.

'I know I am not Alphard. I can never be what he was. It is far too late for that, but I... I never expected to be a good father, I did not have a clue what to do, my own parents being hardly parents at all. I would always panic when you vanished and you did that a lot, even though we lived in an apartment. You usually had climbed in something, or overturned something and crawled beneath that. Yet, I always found you happy and healthy, if somewhat annoyed I had disturbed you. James once suggested I buy you a lead.'

Cassy laughed quietly and Sirius huffed one of his own.

'In my room, I have a photograph of Alphard and you when you must have been about my age. Do you mind if I keep that one?' she asked.

'Go ahead,' he said. His eyes were still fixated on the photograph in front of him. 'I miss him too, Alphard, I mean. He was the closest thing I had to a father figure until I was fifteen and my world opened up. He taught me a lot.'

Cassy's smile became pinched, forced as she wanted to frown at the memory of him. Instead, she sat in silence for a while, observing her father rake his eyes over each and every detail of the following photos, the ones of Lily and James, of him and Remus, the final one of all of the Marauders together by the lake. Finally, she stood and bid him goodnight. If it was not for the mumbled reply, she would have thought he had not heard her.

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><p><strong>I hope everyone had a good holiday. I have a ton of work to do, so my updating is remaining a little slow. I will try and pick up the pace next month, but I should post another chapter at New Year. <strong>

**Harry will arrive soon, so we can get out of the house and onto Hogwarts!**

**I appreciate all the reviews so far. **

**Thanks!**


	6. The failure of Mundungus Fletcher

C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl

**Chapter VI: The failure of Mundungus Fletcher**

The days that followed stretched on longer and longer with each one that passed. Following the same pathways and traipsing up and down the same staircases hour after hour had long since become tedious. The interesting and unusual trinkets and books that been uncovered were the only objects that could rouse her attention and kept her from Muggle-watching out of one of the large windows.

Most of her days were spent cleaning in the same fashion it had been for the last week. The rooms she and Ginny were assigned to take care of were easily done by the hands of Plum and Kitsy, who had begged to be allowed to aid after checking in one day to see her. They worked meticulously, eagerly cleaning up a decade of dirt with their magic, barely restraining themselves from tackling the rest of the house then and there each time they were summoned.

Neither Cassy nor Ginny had any qualms with this. They directed and watched, but mostly their attention switched to card games, chess, and talking. Mrs Weasley would praise them each time, marvelling at how well they worked. She even suggested they work with her to get the Drawing Room sorted; Cassy and Ginny ensured the rooms were left a little worse for wear each time from then on. Mrs Weasley would not support their relaxing at the hands of Cassy's very capable and enthusiastic house-elves.

It did not go amiss that Cassy received more post that anyone else. They were messages from Stephen, Astoria, Hermione, and Luna, the latter of whom knew that she was limited in her post, but wrote regardless. As infrequent as their post was, Stephen and Astoria were easily unsettled if she did not reply within a day or so. They were very similar people, Stephen more tactful by far and more careful with his enquiries, and both demanded to know what had tied her up. Stephen had been infinitely more understanding, asking after her health and well-being.

'You need to make sure you get outside and enjoy the Sun, it will make you feel much better', he would write, letting her know his desire for a response. He was filled with advice and quiet jabs that she needed to be more sociable to heal.

Astoria, on the other hand, seemed to be behaving as if Cassy had nothing to find a fault with. It was refreshing, hearing of other news instead of endless questions of her happiness, but the impatience came across in her letters quite abruptly. Even being in Slytherin for a number of years now could no curb Astoria's frankness that had pushed her to ask if Cassy knew where her father was hiding in their first proper conversation.

She received a letter over dinner one evening, reading:

_Dear Cassy,_

_This silence is driving me mad. I can only imagine how others must feel. I listen to the Muggle news everyday, just in case something peculiar appears, disguised as a gas leak or a industrial incident. There is nothing. There is nothing anywhere, although I always read from cover to cover. _

_My parents are quite well, but they are concerned. I try to act casual, yet they can tell something is wrong. I would never wish to tell them though._

_I hope you are keeping yourself well and I know I do not have to tell you to do all of your homework. Check in with Neville for me though. Remember last year how he forgot we had Transfiguration homework and he had to do it all on the first night? OWLs are coming up!_

_Hope you are well,_

_Hermione_

'Cassy, dear, you really need to watch your post,' fussed Mrs Weasley.

'It is not that people send me that many letters each, I just happen to have more people writing to me,' defended Cassy, perfectly pleasantly.

'Yes, dear, but it creates a lot of owl traffic and people might start to notice,' she said, turning away from her to ensure the dishes were indeed washing themselves.

'A bit popular, are you?' asked Tonks cheerfully, flicking a counter across the table with another and missing the bucket in the centre entirely.

'Just because she makes weird friends,' voiced Ron, flicking his own counter.

'They are not weird, I do not understand why you are all so cold towards them,' responded Cassy lowly. As far as she was aware, they only knew of Stephen and a basic, completely false, assumption that Cassy and Shandy were on good terms. If any of them learnt she had spent much of her summer writing to a Slytherin, it would not be something brushed away easily.

They would probably assume she is a Death Eater trying to extract my location, thought Cassy.

'Harry says Stephen's dodgy,' said Ron casually, as if Harry's opinion settled the matter.

Cassy frowned and said, 'Harry has never even spoken to him and I have told him repeatedly otherwise. Besides, Harry is hardly the most sociable of people. He has a very frank analysis on the new people he meets.'

Ron shrugged, clearly not caring who it was she was sending letters to. He flicked his counter into the bucket, electing a cheer from around the table.

'Who's Stephen?' asked Sirius curiously.

'My friend from Ravenclaw,' she said.

'An _older boy_,' drawled Fred and George, their voices low and wide grins spreading across their faces.

Ignoring Sirius' eyebrows rising high on his forehead, Cassy focused back on the game just in time to see Tonks' finally get her counter in the pot. As another cheer sounded through the kitchen, the door suddenly opened. Cassy looked up immediately, noting that everyone who should have been in the house was all ready present, but she relaxed again when gold slippers popped into view and a long, sparkling robe slithered into view.

'Albus!' cheered Mr Weasley, standing to make room at the table for the Headmaster.

Professor Dumbledore looked around with bright eyes, smiling at each of them in turn. Cassy ducked her head just before he set his eyes on her. She had not yet forgotten the last time they spoke, the harsh words and angry demands she had made, all of her criticisms and her doubts. Surely, he had not either.

'It is good to see everyone in good spirits for a change. Dare I say the last few visits has seen bitterness and boredom,' commented Professor Dumbledore.

'Tea, Albus?' offered Mrs Weasley.

'If you will,' he replied. 'I see the cleaning is coming along well. I can almost get through the hall now.'

'That's because there is a large, unpaid work force,' voiced Fred from the opposite end of the table.

Professor Dumbledore smiled, but Mrs Weasley let out a sharp call of 'Fred!' that sent the rest of the table into giggles.

'You seem to be in an exceptional mood today,' said Remus as Mrs Weasley set the drink down in front of Professor Dumbledore.

'Indeed I am. The Order is progressing along quite steadily now,' he said.

The game of Tiddlywinks was restarted and the pot in the centre grumbled as Ginny shook the counters free, making loud, repulsive gags, as if puking the contents up onto the table. She shook it harder as the last one rattled noisily. The pot groaned, asking to be put out of its misery before being hit off the table in a last ditch effort.

Cassy slipped away as everyone tried their hand to dislodge the counter. Silently, she retreated back upstairs to her room. In the top draw of her desk lay a scroll, rolled carefully and long in length, longer than anything Cassy had had to write. When back in the kitchen, she slipped it in front of Professor Dumbledore after a particularly good shot by Remus that had even the pot complimenting him. She could feel the Headmaster's eyes on her all the way back to her seat. Pointedly, she did not look at him, instead fiddling with a loose button on her sleeve, frowning to make it appear as if it had been bothering her for some time.

She declined to have a turn. There were boos from Fred and George as she rose, carrying her mug over to the sink. She rinsed it out with no great urgency, before flicking on the kettle. It was all ready beginning to whistle, having only been boiled minutes before in another round of drinks. With all of the attention focused on the game, she wondered if she could possibly slip upstairs and return to her room. Perhaps she would read another book she had 'misplaced' in the house during cleaning, or finally decide on another topic of study that Harry and Neville would undoubtedly scrunch their faces up to when trying to comprehend how she actually could enjoy the work.

Suddenly, she was very aware there was someone beside her.

'I would have given it an 'O',' came a deep voice. 'Of course, I should have deducted points for it being fifty-years late.'

From the side of her eyes, Cassy saw Professor Dumbledore smiling softly. She forced a half-smile back easily, looking every bit as pleased as she had wanted it to and every bit more than she really felt.

'The pain of losing loved ones eases with time, but I will not tell you it will ever fade entirely. In time, you learn to value what he has left you, not miss what he has left you without,' he said quietly, his voice barely sounding over the chatter behind.

Cassy stiffly poured the boiling water. 'I apologise for my tone last time we spoke, Professor.'

'The words you spoke were honest, I cannot fault you for being so loyal,' he said kindly.

Pursing her lips, Cassy glanced at him from the corner of her eye and said, 'You misunderstand. I was not apologising for what I said, merely how I said them. I meant everything and I still hold firm that this is not how to treat Harry if you want to help him. I merely am saying I could have worded it better.'

To her great surprise, Professor Dumbledore was smiling. He did not seem the least but affronted by her stern manners and instead seemed to find them quite satisfactory. He too reached for the kettle and poured himself a mug of tea with the excuse his had gone cold; in all of their fun he had forgotten about it, he said, but he had only been given one five minutes prior. Cassy was inwardly simultaneously impressed and mournful that he was using it as an excuse for her to keep him company at the counter, knowing full well that her manners would not allow her to sit and leave him standing alone.

'You raised that you think Harry would be better off here than with his family,' said Professor Dumbledore lightly.

'With all due respect, Professor, they are related by blood and little else. No one there has any affection for him. They are not family,' she said coolly. A long sip was drawn from her tea, barely masking the severe expression that threatened to break through her calm exterior.

'They are the only family he has and I am certain deep down, Petunia loves him as the son of her dear sister,' he said.

'Sir, I am certain I could write a six-foot long essay on why Harry should not be kept with them longer than strictly necessary – which, in my opinion, is no more than a minute – and that would be limiting it to the most pressing reasons. I could probably go on for days. It is only out of respect for Harry's wishes that I have to revealed everything to this house's occupants and seen what they make of it,' retorted Cassy.

Professor Dumbledore was taking an inordinately long time stirring the sugar into his brewing beverage.

'He does not talk of his aunt and uncle then?' he asked curiously.

'Not at all. I only know because I visited last summer and forced my way into their house.'

Professor Dumbledore looked as if he might smile again. 'I suppose, given how strongly you feel on the matter and that you truly do know Harry best, that I could arrange for him to spend the last few weeks of the summer holidays here, if he so wishes.'

Cassy felt a great sense of relief and triumph wash over her all at once. She had done the supposedly impossible and change the great Albus Dumbledore's mind with only a few sharply chosen words. What was more, she had enabled Harry to leave his hole of waiting and loathing far earlier than anyone had intended and she considered waving it over his head as a demand for recompense later in the year.

Suddenly, a sharp noise rang through the house. It was dulled by the closed door, but still shrill and demanding. Sirius rose first, announcing it to be the call of the Floo. Someone was attempting to reach them on Firecall. Remus pushed him back into his seat and went to answer it himself. There was a chance, no matter how slim, that it was no someone from the Order and the chaos that would ensure when Sirius popped into view would be immense. Although Sirius momentarily looked disgruntled that he could not answer his own fireplace, he dropped back into his seat merrily enough with a short reminder that at least he would not have to deal with whoever was on the other end, demanding to know whatever it is they wanted.

Seconds later, Remus rushed back into the room. He halted midway down the rickety staircase and everyone fell silent.

'It's Arabella Figg. She says it is urgent,' he said, locking eyes with Professor Dumbledore.

There was not a moment spared as Professor Dumbledore glided across the room and up the stairs, vanishing, leaving them only with his footsteps thudding up the next flight of stairs.

Then, everyone began talking at once.

'Mrs Figg?' demanded Cassy loudly. 'Why is Mrs Figg part of the Order?'

'You know her?' asked Ginny, as Remus and Sirius turned to her in surprise.

'She is the woman who used to take care of Harry when the Dursley's did not want him. Was she placed there all this time to watch him? What a terrible job she has done!' she cried.

Everyone else's voices got louder at her words. There were quick demands to know what was going on, if her call meant Harry was in trouble, what she meant that she had done a terrible job, and calls of who was supposed to be on watch that night. Shrilly, Mrs Weasley demanded they all sit quietly and stop asking questions immediately.

Cassy pursed her lips. Mrs Weasley made no sign to answer any of their questions, so Cassy did not sit. She stood in place firmly, her eyes darting from Sirius to Remus, then to Tonks, and then to Bill and Mr Weasley. When they were all too busy exchanging their own nervous gazes, Cassy moved with resolution. Unwaveringly, even as she was called to take a seat and return to the kitchen, she marched from the room. Swiftly, she made her way up the stairs, passing Professor Dumbledore in the hall as she did and then rounded up the next flight. She heard him should for Mr Weasley to attend to the Ministry, his voice deeper than she had ever heard it, rough and stony. It only served to make her feet move quicker.

Once locked in her room, she wasted no time pulling the mirror from her bedside table. She pressed the faint rune on the front of the mirror, hissing Harry's name several times before letting out a low growl. There was no answer. After some time of trying, she dropped it onto the bed.

Something had happened, that much was obvious. Even under the watchful eyes of the Order, something terrible had happened. If not, Professor Dumbledore would not have sounded so severe. If Mr Weasley had to go into the Ministry, then they were undoubtedly involved in some way. Just how they were never managed to spring to Cassy's mind, for there was a sharp bang on her door and the frantic twisting of her handle. A grunt followed and another loud, thunderous knock.

Slipping off her bed, Cassy unlocked it. Ginny tumbled in, her eyes instantly focusing on the mirror atop her blue bed covers.

'Did you get hold of him?' she asked quickly.

'No. Ginny, what is wrong?' questioned Cassy, closing the door and locking them in once more.

'Harry's been expelled. Dad's just got back, he said the alarm went off for under-aged magic. He did the Patronus Charm in front of a Muggle. They've expelled him,' she said in a single breath.

Cassy did not breath. She stared, stricken. There was simply no way, there was no way that Harry would be so careless, not unless something had happened. Harry was not stupid. He would not do such a thing to catch their attention, he would know he would be expelled; he loved Hogwarts. The only reason he would do such a thing was if there had been Dementors sent to Little Whinging.

'Dementors are supposed to be under the control of the Ministry of Magic though,' she said finally, quietly, her eyebrows sinking and her head turning to the side in thought.

'We're not sure what happened, but Dumbledore was livid,' said Ginny, dropping herself down onto the bed. She waved the mirror in her hand, her thumb on the rune. 'He's gone to try and sort it out. Hedwig has just appeared in the kitchen, pecking everyone. Harry wants to know what's going on right now.'

'He could just call me,' muttered Cassy. 'Then again, sending a letter is sure to get the attention of the Order and prove how vital it is they communicate with him. It would become suspicious if he remained calm. Someone might assume we do have free contact.'

'Do you think he would have thought of that?' asked Ginny.

'He can be very clever, even if his ideas are sometimes too complex. If he wants out, then he would know his best bet is sending a scathing letter.'

After a few minutes of restlessness, Ginny retreated back downstairs to see if any news had been brought in. The house was suddenly alight with movement and it was impossible to tell who was coming and going. Tonks had probably returned to the Ministry to alert Kingsley and minimise what damage she could. Mrs Weasley's worried voice rang from the kitchens and Sirius' deep voice called from much closer, demanding to know the latest developments as someone else slipped through the front door. Wulburga's portrait began screaming and no one had the time to silence her.

Something shifted within her hands. Automatically, her thumb flicked over the rune and she levelled the mirror to her face.

'Harry!' she cried and the same time he called her name. 'What is going on? Ginny said you have been expelled?'

'Not now. They did, but it was reconsidered and I have a trial on the twelfth of August. Cassy, when am I getting out of here?' he said. His hair seemed more dishevelled than usual, a genuine mess that his usual charming mop. His face was pallid. The tan he had gained from avoiding his aunt and uncle's house all summer had seemingly vanished behind the panic, his face shining brightly with concern and confusion.

'I do not know,' she replied honestly. 'I managed to get Professor Dumbledore to agree to let you spend the last few weeks here only minutes before Mrs Figg called to report.'

'Did you know she was in on it? That she was a Squib?' he asked.

'I would have told you if I did. Harry, what happened? No one is telling us anything.'

Harry let out a short laugh, as if bitterly pleased he was the one with the knowledge for once, yet he looked strongly as if he would rather not be. He explained that he had been walking with his cousin, teasing him for bullying a ten-year-old, although he knew he should have not. He said it became icy suddenly in the alley they were walking in. For a minute, he thought he had done accidental magic, but he quickly realised he could not have; he did not have the ability to erase the stars from the sky.

Cassy listened with rapt attention as he detailed his cousin's panic. He knew something had been there, but he had not been able to them. He had lost his wand when Dudley had hit him in panic, finding it again by calling for it to light - impressive magical control, noted Cassy, but she was very aware that was the last thing on his mind.

It was only on his third try that he produced a Patronus, his thought – he trailed off in embarrassment, but mumbling he admitted he that thought of his friends. Cassy did not have the heart to snicker at him, it was quite sweet that his final thoughts before a possible death had been them, but like his impressive magic, she did not think that would make him feel much better either. Instead, she nodded, urging him continue and he did, explaining the large, white stag that had exploded from his wand and chased away the pair of Dementors.

Before he could begin to help Dudley out of the ball he had curled himself tightly into, Mrs Figg had appeared at the end of the alley, scolding him for trying to hide his wand away in his pocket. According to her, Mundungus should have been on watch, although unsurprising to Harry, he had tried his best to pretend he was unaware of his supervision.

'She had never told me she was a Squib because of Dumbledore. He said I was too young to know anything and she knew if the Dursley's thought I was having fun I would never be left with her again. Mundungus was supposed to tell Dumbledore, but Mrs Figg decided to in the end. She told Mundungus to stay around in case they come back at my suggestion. I was all ready aware that I needed to get Dudley home and I could hardly hold him as it was. He vanished before I got him in the house though, he said he was going back to watch. He seemed to think it would make Dumbledore less angry,' recalled Harry with little enthusiasm.

'Hardly. I have never seen him so furious before. We might be a man down if you had not suggested he stay,' commented Cassy.

'Yeah, well, I doubt I would be able to fend them off again if they came to the house. It's only the second time I have produced a corporeal Patronus. If I had to protect all three of them then I thought it might not end as well,' he admitted, but Cassy nodded firmly in agreement.

'That is clever. It still means you have the protection you should have been having all the while. I assume the letter then arrived to expel you?' said Cassy.

'Yeah, the rest if straight forward. I got that letter, my aunt and uncle wanted to know what happened, demanded I leave and blaming me for Dudley's state. I then got a letter from Mr Weasley telling me not to leave the house or surrender my wand. I considered making a run for it at this point, but then I would have no where to go. Dudley then said I pointed my wand at him – the little liar – utterly deluded from the attack. Turns out Aunt Petunia knows what Dementors are though, she even said they guard Azkaban. Apparently she recalled my mum talking about them once.

'I received a letter stating I did not have to hand over my wand, but attend a meeting on the twelfth instead. I think Uncle Vernon was disappointed they had not sentenced me to death though.'

He is building his own death sentence, thought Cassy seething.

'I got a letter from Sirius that told me to stay where I am again... My uncle tried to kick me out of the house again and then, oddly enough to top it all off, Aunt Petunia received a Howler,' he finished lightly, as if discussing the weather.

Ignoring Harry's heavy levels of sarcasm, Cassy asked, 'From who?' She frowned and Harry shrugged.

'It just said "Remember my last, Petunia". Last what, I don't know. I was hoping you would know who it was from, but apparently not.' He threw himself backwards onto his bed, lifting the mirror above his head. He did not bother to adjust his crooked glasses.

'And you did not recognise the voice in the slightest?' asked Cassy with an intrigued frown.

'It should be a crime for you to look so delighted at my misfortune,' snorted Harry.

Cassy rolled her eyes in return. 'It is not that at all!'

* * *

><p>It was early the next morning that Cassy was once again sitting on her bed with the mirror in her hand and Harry's grass green eyes staring back at her. There was nothing to report to him. Hushed and very early, numerous people had crept through the halls of Grimmauld Place. The kitchen had been closed off the the last hour, wards drawn up so the Extendible Ears could not function and no one was keen to share anything when it was finally opened for breakfast.<p>

The days that followed were no more informative that the last. However, on the fourth, Tonks pulled Cassy aside, muttering that they had made plans to go and collect him that evening. While she did not know the exact time, she had reported it back to Harry anyway, receiving and exasperated and grateful reply of 'finally'.

It was not formally announced until after dinner when everyone who had volunteered – Tonks had assured her there were many eager participants – had all ready left. Cassy slunk up to her room to have a peaceful hour of reading before they returned, tucked away out of the sights and minds of the Weasley children who would want to discuss it and far away from the eyes of her brooding father, who appeared to be sulking that he could not go and pick up his Godson himself.

Slowly, she was working her way through the rather large stack of books she had collected from throughout the house. It was becoming such a stack that it was impossible to ignore and if her father saw it he would banish them all before she had a chance to get a word in, having all ready taken one away from her that morning.

The door was propped open, not wide enough to be inviting, but just enough to let the slow activities of the house to reach her listening ears. Not that she needed it open to hear the bangs and thuds of Fred and George in a room above. They had returned to working on their new material; odd smells leaked through the halls each morning and Cassy had the sneaking suspicion they only woke as early as they did in a bid to hide it from their mother every day.

The doorbell sounded, short and sharp. Pages ceased turning and Cassy remained fixed with her fingers pinching the corner of the page as her eyes halted at the very last word. Slowly, her head inclined to the door. Voiced rang out out in the hall, cheerful and relieved greetings exchanged softly in mind on the portraits.

With a wide smile, she strode down the corridor, lingering at the top with her forearms resting on the bannister rail. Below her, Mrs Weasley hugged Harry tightly. Several of the Order of the Phoenix members who had yet to push past lingered behind them, chatting idly, Tonks amongst them with Remus by her side.

Suddenly, Harry looked up and beamed. Cassy smiled back down at him and he manoeuvred the stairs, catching her tightly at the top in a fierce hug of his own.

'Those are becoming quite common,' she remarked when he released her.

Unabashed, he continued to beam.

'Ah, Cassy, can you show Harry to his room. He'll be sharing with Ron,' whispered Mrs Weasley loudly.

'Right beside mine then,' said Cassy. She waved for Harry to follow her down the long hall. His eyes drifted over the heads mounted high and the scowling portraits, he stepped away from the reaches of the shifting boxes and the smiling figurines that were fixed to the walls.

'So, this is the house of your ancestors?' he said conversationally.

'Yes, although I imagine it was much grander in its prime. My Grandmother was starting to let it rot before she died,' answered Cassy.

'The Grandmother fixed behind the curtain in the Entrance Hall?' he asked.

'The very same. I am sure you will get to meet her soon. Something will upset her.'

Cassy knocked on Ron's bedroom door, indicating to her own as they passed. There was no answer.

'If you're looking for Ron, he's upstairs in Fred and George's room. They got Neville to agree to help them with something and he's yet to return, so Ron went to do some damage control,' said a voice behind them.

'All right, Ginny?' said Harry.

'Not bad, better that you, I reckon,' she said.

Harry turned back to Cassy. 'So, Neville is here?'

'Only when they intend to have meetings. His Grandmother brings him,' she said simply.

By the time they had reached the upper landing, the three of them could all ready hear the muffled discussion from twins' bedroom. Despite the door being shut, heated words leaked through the cracks and Cassy made a mental note to reprimand Neville for letting himself be a test subject for Fred and George, most likely having got himself into trouble if Ron's grumbles were anything to go by. True to this, when Cassy entered without so much as announcing her presence, she saw Neville lying on George's bed, eyes close and face relaxed; he almost seemed blissfully asleep.

'Have you tried another one of your Fainting Fancies?' asked Cassy as she strode by to perch on the edge of George's bed.

'Evening, Harry,' chimed both Fred and George, not looking up from their notes.

'Hey,' he said lifelessly back.

It was remarkable, in Cassy's honest opinion, that Harry had yet to make a jibe or jab about the house yet. He had been there for three minutes and had retained his temper, something Cassy had expected to boil over immediately once all of the Order members were out of sight. Instead, he took a seat on Fred's bed beside Ron, while Ginny mumbled something about checking the wards on the kitchen door, snatching a box of Dungbombs off the chest of drawers.

'Cassy, dear,' said George, imitating his mother's warm, sweet voice she always used with her, 'please fan Neville to stop him over-heating.' He handed her a thin fan from what appeared to be transfigured paper.

Cassy looked at it and back to Neville, casting a look of long suffering at George.

'He'll be fine! We thought we had the remedy sorted and obviously the next phase was to test it on someone else. These things happen. He even sighed a waver,' he said, holding up a scrap of paper with lines of crooked, hand-written agreements covering it.

'That will never hold up in court if you kill him,' she said, unimpressed and somewhat teasing.

'Will you sue us?' asked Fred.

'No, but his Grandmother might have something to say about it,' she said lightly, smirking as the twins shuddered. Even Ron looked grim on their behalf.

'Well, woman, don't just sit there – fan him!' demanded Fred and Cassy was very nearly about to retort than he should fan him himself when the bedroom door opened once more. Ginny poked her head in, heaving a heavy sigh.

'The Extendible Ears are a no go,' she said, grabbing a cloth from the side to wipe her blackened hands. 'I tried to flick Dungbombs at it, but they just bounced right off and inch before hitting it. They've shielded it.'

Everyone groaned.

'It must be important then,' said Ron morosely.

'I still think Moody will have seen the ears. It is probably his doing,' said Cassy.

'Well, you can always ask Sirius, can't you?' asked Ginny eagerly.

'I can try, but I might have to wait a few days,' agreed Cassy thoughtfully.

'Sirius tells you about the meetings?' queried Harry suddenly.

Cassy turned. There was something in his tone that made her wary. Still, she nodded. 'Sometimes. The contents of the meeting are at parental digression, so I can usually learn information from my father, although I hardly assume this to be the entire meetings contents.'

Her words were picked carefully, delicate and with no meaning beyond how she had used them. She could still see rage bubbling beneath the surface in Harry's face, ready, if anyone would take it, to explode and release the pent up emotions, the resentment and the sadness, that he had held within all summer. While Cassy had been on the receiving end of a fair few battles during the past month, his words harsher and more demanding than anything he had ever lashed in her direction, she had always known that he took a great deal of effort to restrain those feelings in their conversations. After all, Cassy was the one person giving him information. She had been doing her best to keep him in the loop when amongst people who were keen to keep him in the dark, unaware of what Voldemort was plotting, despite the numerous attempts he had made on his life over the years.

They both knew, and perhaps that was why Cassy had not taken such great offence to his criticisms, that his anger did not lay with their friends, but with their Headmaster. Yet, a sort of renewed irritation was beginning to show for his Godfather.

'Harry,' she said curtly, before he could possibly find the words to begin an angry tirade, 'if my father was willing to leave hiding, come back to Britain, and to live in a cave eating only rats for months last year, I think we can safely say he does have your best intentions at heart.'

Harry deflated quickly and he sighed.

George, who had inclined his head towards them as they spoke, shifted on the ground, fixing Harry with a peculiarly serious expression. 'Mate, you need to calm down. We are all frustrated. Fred and I haven't been allowed to join, even though we're of age. Trust us, if we were in the Order, we would let you know everything we did.'

'It's totally unfair that you don't know anything more than us, I mean, it is you You-Know-Who has it in for. We've told you before,' said Ron.

'Yeah, so don't blow up, all right?' added Ginny.

Harry bit his lip and Cassy could tell he was thinking hard about it. The mild resignation on his face had not left by the time Mrs Weasley called them downstairs again, eager to fill Harry's stomach with sandwiches. He worked his way through two before Sirius piped up about the meeting. Just as he did with Cassy, he spoke honestly. Much of it was things they had all ready told him through the mirror, the little things they had worked out or listened in on, but there was one defining fact that he raised that had everyone's rapt attention.

'He wants stuff he can only get by stealth, like a weapon. Something he did not have last time,' said Sirius and suddenly everyone's ears pricked.

Before Harry was able to finish asking what kind of weapon it might be, Mrs Weasley had cut him off and ended the discussion. Like most nights when she had had enough of the children, she sent them to bed early. Neville said his goodbyes before departing with his Grandmother and everyone trekked up to bed. Ginny was still scowling from her mother trying to evict her before the talk, holding on barely by stating Cassy would merely tell her everything anyway and when Cassy nodded along in defence, she had been allowed to remain.

* * *

><p>The mood of the house barely picked up the next day. At long last, they were going to begin cleaning the Drawing Room. Mrs Weasley seemed pleased by the prospect of having somewhere comfortable to sit and Cassy knew she had obviously never actually been in the room. It was as far from comfortable as it could be with the age old stuffing in the chairs having become hard and uncompromising from neglect.<p>

Sirius responded to Mrs Weasley's curt questionings with as much enthusiasm as Cassy had for the day. It was clear she was only asking out of courtesy and that she had no interest in what he wanted, still visible annoyed from his willingness to shed light of the Order's actions on her children the night before.

Once she had escaped upstairs to once again call for breakfast, Remus turned to Cassy and Sirius with a pointed look that appeared very well practised.

'It is difficult enough with one moody mutt, I don't need two,' he said, casting a long suffering look at Cassy.

'My enthusiasm for cleaning can only stretch so far for so long,' she responded despondently.

Sirius nodded along with her. 'She has a point.'

'It has to be done, so if you two could just cheer up - '

'Easy for you to say, you get to leave this wretched place,' snapped Sirius.

Remus took no notice.

Once breakfast was done and cleared, Cassy's spirits had lifted slightly. The reality of cleaning with Mrs Weasley was, in fact, very different to what she had envisioned in her mind. As long as she made a little bit of progress and appeared busy blasting Doxys from the air with disinfectant, she did not really have to do much beyond share the occasional dead-eyed look with her father and Harry, the latter of whom worked well under the command, yet appeared as if this was the very opposite of how he had imagined spending time in the house.

'I told you it was not all fun and games,' said Cassy lowly when Harry arrived back from where he had been speaking to Sirius. 'Or much fun at all, really.'

'Still better than being locked in my bedroom,' he mumbled back, picking up one of the last sandwiches that had been saved for him. Sirius had explained all about the family tree and it seemed the reality of Cassy's widespread heritage had only begun to sink into Harry's mind when he could visualise the full history of it. The pair often broke off through that day to talk to one another and Cassy found that she did not mind at all. Whereas their closeness had previously played on her mind, she almost found that she had settled that part of herself, found peace with the position of her father in her life after several late night conversations and early morning starts where the two had found each other for company.

She almost felt as though she owed him an apology. Her temper had been short and her interest in him even less so, yet he had stuck around and persevered with her when blood clearly meant so little to him. Yet, there was still twelve years of damage to be calculated, an entire history to be settled and endless disappointments and years of resentment to be burnt before Cassy felt she would ever be entirely happy.

Regardless, she found herself pleased that the two were talking. Harry always missed Sirius terribly, worrying for his well-being as the only adult he had in his life who truly acted as if he cared for him and not for a greater purpose.

Perhaps, thought Cassy as she listened to the kettle boil later that night, that is why I do not feel so angry any more. He may not have prioritised his daughter when she was young, running recklessly to avenge his friends, but he was managing well to care for Harry when he needed him the most. Slowly, he was working his way back into Cassy's favour too with kind words and his black humoured jokes, well aware that his relationship with his daughter required more of a delicate hand.

Kreacher grumbled around her knees, cursing her beneath his breath. She paid him no mind, stretching out her back where the muscles had knotted from a day spent ducking beneath furniture to rid the room of Doxy's once and for all. By the end of the day, Mrs Weasley was confident they had got them all, but warned them back for duty tomorrow just to be sure. Ron, who had been bitten no less than five times, groaned loudly at the prospect, barely able to life his knife and fork at dinner with his swollen fingers.

Plucking the mug back out of Kreacher's hands as he pulled it from the side to undoubtedly hoard it in his cupboard, Cassy turned her head. The door at the top of the stairs opened and yet no one descended. A few seconds passed before Cassy turned back to the kettle.

'It is just me,' she called.

Feet them began to shuffle down the stairs, light footed, yet tall, if the long shadows cast across the walls were anything to measure by.

'I didn't want to come down in case it was something else,' came a low voice from behind.

'Such as what?' she asked, tipping the boiling water into the mug at last. 'Do you want one?'

'Er – yeah, sure. I don't know. After everything you said about this house I had high expectations for weirdness,' he said, taking a seat at the table. A faint scrape sounded, indicating that Harry had pulled her book across the table to get a better look at.

'There is nothing wrong with the house, oh no. The only thing wrong with it is the vile people within it, Half-Bloods and Blood-Traitors - ' sounded Kreacher's seething voice from the far corner.

'Ignore him,' said Cassy quietly, setting the drinks down. 'He is under the impression we cannot hear his mutterings. Do you want some treacle tart? Mrs Weasley made me some, she said it will cheer me up and otherwise I will have to eat the entire thing by myself before she fusses and makes me another one.'

'Sure,' said Harry. 'It's my favourite and that hardly sounds like a bad deal at all.'

'It is very sweet of her, but I only eat so much and frankly being force fed is not high on my list of favourite pastimes,' complained Cassy. She cut two generous slices of tart before putting the remained back in the fridge and joining Harry at the table.

He thanked her, his eyes remaining on the index of the book she had selected to keep her company in the early hours of the morning. His frown grew the more he read and Cassy could all ready anticipate the questions he would surely ask, having no answers prepared other than the truth.

'This is like the book Sirius took off you in the Drawing Room, isn't it?' he asked seriously. She regarded him coolly as he continued, 'Why do you read this, you always swore you hated this sort of stuff.'

'I want to know everything there is to know about what constitutes as Dark Magic, because I want to understand what happened to Alphard. No one seems able to tell me what it was that happened, the spell, the caster, the effects, reluctant to tell me even how it caused _it_. I want to know as much as I can so it can _never_ happen again to anyone I care for,' she explained coldly, firmly, confident and unwavering in her motives.

It was the first time she had ever mentioned Alphard's death since his passing. She had said his name, but it almost seemed as if he were alive when she did, mentioning in passing of him and their home. Her stomach gave an uncomfortable twinge and a voice in the back of her mind wished she could take it all back, erasing the stinging in her tongue that his name left.

For a moment, Harry just stared, before his eyes flicked down to the table. 'Sorry.'

'What for?' she asked, her voice almost casual as she took an unnecessarily large spoonful of tart into her mouth.

'I pestered you a lot over the last month for information about what's going on with the Order when I should have let you concentrate on other things than just what I wanted,' he said quietly.

Cassy raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly guilty at his forlorn expression. 'You asked how I was so frequently that it became quite irritating, actually. That was enough for me.'

'Still... and what do you mean it was irritating? I asked once every time we spoke, that's called being polite,' protested Harry.

'Try three or four times,' drawled Cassy in a mock whisper.

'That's just rude,' grumbled Harry.

The pair smiled at each other from beneath their brows as they continued to make short work of the pudding.

'Still, do not be so over-sensitive about my well-being. I read because I want to and that is sufficient,' said Cassy with finality. 'Being so careful will not get you far in this house, the inhabitants will make short work of you. Why are you up so late, anyway?'

'There seems to be something living in the wall cavity that woke me up. Then, I heard you get up and not come back, so I just got out of bed because I wasn't going back to sleep any time soon,' he said with a shrug. 'Why are you up?'

'I am always up late and you might want to get as much sleep as you can, we have more cleaning to do tomorrow.'

Harry groaned.

* * *

><p><strong>Ta-da! The long awaited arrival of Harry.<strong>

**I had a Guest reviewer appear on _Skin of a Dragon_ to correct some of my spelling mistakes. This is absolutely fine. My word processor thinks half of what I put isn't real anyway because of all the unusual names, and I am apparently probably dyslexic (two school and my university have wanted me tested, but I refused each time) so I have a tendency to miss mistakes when I read it back. I kind of see what I expect to and not what is there. I will have a closer look from now on though and will try and correct the mistakes in the past stories. If I do keep spelling something wrong, let me know. **

**What do you think? I didn't have Harry blow up because he wasn't completely kept in the dark and was shut down before he could get his anger out. I feel as though Ron and Hermione should have called him out a little bit more for expecting too much of them in the book, but I understand why he was cross. **

**Also, what do you think of my little introduction to the Dark Arts? A slippery slope, Cassy! I do think the best counter-measure is to understand what you are up against, but it is never really delved into, so we might see some unfavourable interests going on in the background.**

**I appreciate all of the reviews. Tell me what you think as always. **

**Thanks!**


	7. Contained freedom

C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl

**Chapter VII: Contained freedom**

Light filtered in around the golden curtains the same that morning as it did every morning. The bright, garish yellow light of the lamp post crawled across the white ceiling and down to the wooden floor. The Sun had yet to rise, but it was coming, threatening infect the bedroom with an infallible light that would surely bleed through her eyelids and stop sleep claiming her once more, but Cassy had no intention of sleeping anyway.

The large clock above the fireplace read half-four. There was no movement from within the house, not even Kreacher patrolling the halls as he often did. It seemed like a good excuse to remain wrapped in the covers, obscenely comfortable for once with the simple knowledge that, for the first time in weeks, she really should be waking before sunrise. Yet, her eyes refused to remain closed and her mind continued to over-work as it always did. Swiftly, before she could second guess her choice another time, Cassy rolled over and switched on the lamp on her bedside table. Following the motion, she slipped out of bed, plucking the silk dressing gown from the back of the door and shut it behind her silently.

Gingerly, she stepped down the hall. The carpet was sticky, mottled with stains and subject to change appearance at the pleasure of the houses tiny keeper. Cassy did not look down. She did not want to know what squelched beneath her outside of Harry and Ron's bedroom. Quietly, she rapped her knuckles on the varnished wood of their door. Shuffling sounded from within and soon the pale face of her friend peaked out to greet her.

'Hey,' he whispered.

Cassy took a step back to allow him to slip into the hall. Harry shut the door behind him, muffling Ron's carefree snores.

'How are you?' she asked quietly.

'Feeling great, never better,' he replied and Cassy shifted on the spot, then smiled slightly up at him.

'Just so you know, if you do get expelled, I am not above acquiring a wand for you,' she said, flippantly.

He managed a genuine, crooked smile back down at her. 'Whatever happened to everyone being certain I will get off for it?'

'It is just an offer,' she said casually. 'Feel free to decline.'

'Absolutely not. Maybe if I did get expelled I could live a magical life free from the papers and the hassle of the wizarding world...' he joked, his voice quivering slightly towards the beginning.

'Are we that bad?' She held her smile well.

Harry shrugged. 'I suppose I can make room for you to visit occasionally.'

'I do not need your permission, Potter,' retorted Cassy.

Considering Harry had paid Fred and George a thousand Galleons to offer some joy, it was a personal triumph to make him laugh on the day that may dictate his entire future. Slowly, both their smiles began to slip from their faces. Cassy took a deep breath.

'Keep your head held high. Do not answer back, even if they provoke you and there will certainly be those that try. You need to keep your story straight. Do not let them pressure you into contradicting yourself. If they cut you off them let them. You have to remain calm and continue when they stop. Do not fight, it puts you in a bad light,' she instructed. 'Wear something nice. I had something delivered for you. You must make a good impression.'

'Are those where those clothes came from?' asked Harry curiously.

'Of course,' she said, firmly. 'I could not let you appear in court in your usual attire.'

'What's wrong with my usual clothes?' he asked indignantly.

Cassy cast him a piercing stare and Harry threw up his hands in surrender. 'Point taken.'

'I mean it. Try and win their hearts and their minds. Make eye contact. Someone has set you up,' she said, 'and keep an eye out for who is against you, who is leading the crowd. Make a note of the friendly faces. Sometimes those with the most power possess the least subtly.'

'I will.'

The two did not hug. Hugging would be suggesting she thought she would not see him again, a good-bye and an acknowledgement he needed luck. Instead, Cassy went back to her room without more than a smile and got herself ready for the day. She heard Harry slowly return to his room and moments later step back out and down the hall, creaking on the stairs as he shifted his weight uncertainly on each and every one of them.

By the time Cassy exited her room again, her hair tied loosely over one shoulder, she was just in time to see Harry arrive at the door. A smell of bacon and sausages filled the hall from the hurried breakfast Mrs Weasley had cooked him, most likely uneaten. It was one of the similarities the pair shared when stressed; they did not eat. Beside Harry was Mr Weasley tensely smiling to his wife, who had just swept Harry in for a tight embrace. Tonks was behind, along with Sirius, who was smiling as Harry peered at him through Mrs Weasley's curly red hair. She held him close for a long time. Mr Weasley slowly put his hand on Harry's shoulder, peeling him backwards slowly from his wife, who smiled tensely at him.

'You'll be fine dear,' she said, although it was clear how she doubted her own words.

Tersely, Harry ventured a glance up at the stairs. He looked away and then quickly doubled back around. There was no doubt that he had gazed up the stairs before. They locked eyes and Cassy slowly nodded in assurance. Harry did not nod back. He stared up at her until Mr Weasley pulled him from the house, tipping his hat to the others in the hall as he went. The door slammed and Harry was gone.

Cassy ignored the sinking sensation in her stomach.

'Cassy,' came a voice from below, forcing her to recognise the others' presences. 'Come and have breakfast.'

Cassy opened her mouth to decline Mrs Weasley's offer, she did not feel much like eating. It was too early and she hardly considered grouping herself in with Harry's worried parental figures to be a proactive way to spend the wait. However, Tonks clapped her hands together.

'Yeah, I haven't - ' she let out a long, loud yawn, 'properly seen you in ages. We haven't had a good conversation since you've been here. Come and chat.'

'Should you not go to bed?' asked Cassy with a slight frown.

Her cousin shook her head and waved. 'I'll come and get you if you try and wander back to your room.'

Knowing very much that Tonks would unashamedly drag her down the flight of stairs with her bare hands, Cassy conceded to the undoubtedly uncomfortable meal.

Breakfast was a dull affair, if anything. No one spoke much, beyond Tonks' continuing chatter and the punctuated murmurs of acknowledgement from Cassy. Once Tonks agreed to return home to finally sleep from her late night shift, the kitchen fell into deeper wariness. Mrs Weasley washed the plates unnaturally slowly; Sirius stared across to the wall blankly, his smile having slipped from his tired face the moment Harry had left the house; Remus waited patiently, the calmest of the adults.

'He will not be charged,' he said suddenly. 'Dumbledore will not allow it.'

'Dumbledore doesn't control all of the wizarding world,' said Sirius lowly.

The conversation died before it had a chance to blossom. Cassy wondered if she could possibly sneak up to her room and escape the awkward silence, but whenever she shifted in her seat Mrs Weasley would look up sharply, twitching at the sound as if it might have been the front door opening with news.

Relief came in the form of Ginny and Hermione traipsing down at half-seven. They slumped into the room, their stooping shoulders and puffy eyes telling of their late night conversations and forced early start. They looked between the three at the table carefully as their blurry eyes allowed. Quickly, Mrs Weasley jumped up to put the next round of sausages into the pan, seemingly more cheerful with a crowd to be pleasant for. Her face was tight.

'What time did you get up?' asked Hermione. She had arrived three days prior. Unable to stay away at the short, rather cruelly so, letter that Harry had sent about the incident at Privet Drive, she had demanded her arrival regardless of Cassy's previous discretion. She had had a lot to say on the matter having spent the time before her arrival researching every law and every loophole in his defence.

'Half-four,' replied Cassy, standing to make herself another cup of tea.

'_Why?_' questioned Ginny, incredulously.

'So I could speak to Harry before he left,' she said shortly.

'How was he?' said Hermione.

'Fine,' lied Cassy.

Not long afterwards, Ron and Neville, who had specially requested he be allowed to stay the night before to be present for the verdict, along with Fred and George appeared around the table. The continuous smell of bacon and egg wafting through the various levels of the house after an hour had eventually roused the boys from their slumber. Tiredly, they wiped at their eyes and took their seats. Like Hermione, Neville asked after Harry and they all listened eagerly as Ginny retold them what Cassy had said. Every time it was said, Sirius seemed to ease a fragment more. It was surprising, to Cassy at least, that he could gather concern so quickly; he had been calm and dismissive of the trial until the very point Harry had walked from the door. His equanimity had crumbled, although Cassy largely thought she was the only one to see it.

However, she did not make eye contact with him. He was far to intent on guzzling as many mugs of coffee as possible and Cassy had found new interest in the cookbook that had been propping up a crooked kitchen door. Slowly, she flicked through the pages, scanning the recipes and eyeing the moving drawn images, their lines thick and bold, showing its age. Ginny had leant over when Cassy made a muffled, throaty noise of indignation as she came to a chapter titled 'Baking with banes'. Despite herself, Cassy turned to see exactly what poison foods the book suggested.

As the boys tucked into their first meals and Mrs Weasley sought to offer the left overs around, especially to Sirius who had not yet eaten at all, the post arrived. Fred and George received a letter from Lee Jordon and Cassy one too. The looping green letters across the front was telling of Astoria.

'More post again, dear?' asked Mrs Weasley. 'You really must tell them to write less.'

'I have,' defended Cassy. 'I merely have more people who wish to converse with me.' It almost sounded like a jibe and while Cassy hated the possibility of being rude to Mrs Weasley, she had explained the situation multiple times. If they were going to send letters then they would. If she told them to halt all together, there was a sizeable possibility that they would merely write more.

Mrs Weasley's head tilted to one side slight as she smiled forcefully. She was hardly in the mood to smile while Harry was on trial. 'I know, but - '

'Oh, let her get her post, Molly. It's good to have some contact from the outside world. So what if people notice owls hanging about? They will never find this place anyway. It is too well guarded,' snapped Sirius, throwing down the _Daily Prophet_.

Confined to the house and each other's company, even their arguments had begun to repeat.

'Dumbledore said - ' began Mrs Weasley sharply.

'Dumbledore can make mistakes. Just because he thinks it is best to be locked up - ' snapped Sirius.

'We are not talking about you! You are talking about your daughter's constant post!' she shouted.

'And I am saying that it is no harm to get the odd letter every week!' he roared back.

'This is because Albus said you can't accompany Harry to the trial – and with good reason,' she said shrilly, waving her hand as if to bat away an irritating fly. 'If you want to be caught then so be it, but not on the head of anyone else.'

'This is not about me,' laughed Sirius incredulously. 'We are talking about post!'

'Are we? Or were we really talking about you gallivanting out freely when you know very well why you can't?' she said tensely. Then, without another acknowledgement, she turned back to the counter, furiously scrubbing at the pans.

At the table, Sirius huffed and picked the paper back up, opening it loudly and widely to bury his face within the moving pages. The teens peered between each other silently. Slowly, but too noisily, Ginny scraped back her chair.

'I want you all back here in ten minutes!' snapped Mrs Weasley. She did not turn to face them.

'Right,' said George.

'Sure,' agreed Ron quickly.

Everyone scrambled up the staircase, not slowing until they reached the very top of the first flight of stairs. Below them, Walburga grumbled behind her curtain at the noise. Only when they heard the kitchen door swing shut did they burst into nervous, loud whispers. The Weasleys separated back to their rooms, but Hermione remained behind, staring grimly at Cassy.

'He does know that Dumbledore was right not to let him go, doesn't he?' she asked, her lips pressed thinly together.

'Most likely. It is not as though the possibility of Pettigrew having informed the Death Eaters of his animagus form would have escaped him,' answered Cassy with a sigh. She agreed with Professor Dumbledore that it was far too risky to let Sirius go. Too many workers were old Death Eaters and Fudge himself knew of Sirius was potentially in contact with her, Harry, and Remus. To see a dog in the building would only cause suspicion and if he were to be captured now, all of the Order of the Phoenix could be risked to exposure at the rigorous questioning that was sure to follow. Harry would certainly be expelled for aiding a man, however innocent, who was a wanted criminal. Cassy would be fortunate not to get the same fate. Sirius must know that, she reasoned. 'His desire to leave the house to be of use might be overwhelming though,' she finished, half speaking to herself and half to Hermione.

'It must be terrible, but it has to be better than eating rats in a cave like last year, right?' said Hermione, wrapping her jumper tighter around herself.

Cassy's lips thinned darkly. Sirius would most certainly argue with that.

They regrouped sometime later. The arduous chore of cleaning was set upon them once again, this time for the grand dining room on the ground floor of which they had never touched. Armed with spray bottles and gloves, they were tasked with sorting through what could and could not be thrown away. The walls were blue with silver accents. Like every other room, a grand fireplace sat at the far end, the long, dark wood table stretching across the centre of the floor above a dusty, but very beautiful mat. Large windows were soon uncovered, so thick with years of grime that the dim light of the early morning struggled to penetrate at all. Over to one side of the room was a pile of boxes filled with objects best left to Sirius' discretion. He had not emerged from the kitchen. Yet, they cleaned better than ever before. Rather than simply moving objects around in an attempt to shy from the chore, they embraced it. It was repetitive and meticulous, mind consuming at the best of times and that meant forgetting for a few precious moments that Harry was in his trial by now, presenting his evidence and hearing the prosecution, being drilled for all possibilities on how Dementors could possibly have arrived in the little Muggle suburbs.

Cassy took a sheet of the day's newspaper that had been brought up to wrap some of the more delicate items in. Before each sheet was wrapped around anything, Cassy combed it for information. The pages had yet to contain much. There was some idol gossip and an interesting article on new international relations formed by the Triwizard Tournament, but it spoke nothing of Harry, nor of any suspicious activities.

'Oy, if we have to clean then so do you,' said Fred, snatching the paper from her. 'Just because your dad owns the house doesn't mean you get to laze around.'

'If you do not clean, then what is the point of you?' she asked, blinking owlishly. Turning to get another piece of paper, she pretended not to see the indignation on Fred's face as she did her best to appear utterly serious.

'George, she just compared us to house-elves,' he cried.

'Oh, no,' said Cassy severely. 'My house-elves are far more useful than either of you.'

Fred threw a scrunched paper ball at her. She moved a fraction to the side and it soared by to hit Neville in the back of the head.

'If you three are seen messing around, your mother won't be pleased,' came Hermione's low voice from the other side of the huge dining room.

'She is not my mother and she is all ready vexed about my post, so I will take my chances,' drawled Cassy. Laughing eased the worry inside and finally conversation was struck.

'She isn't actually mad at you, you know. She is just concerned because Dumbledore warned us about the mail. I think it worries her that we might be found out and traced,' offered Ginny, moving to stack more books back onto the shelves.

'As far as anyone is concerned, I am still living with Tonks. She occasionally goes out pretending to be me – although I am still unsure how I feel about that,' said Cassy.

'You're lucky she's not mad at you. She always likes the friends better than her own kids. She thinks Harry is a tiny Merlin with the way she looks at him,' said Ron with a lazy laugh.

'I do hope he is all right,' fretted Hermione and with that, the tone became very sombre.

The glum feeling continued into lunch. A slight panic had risen that he had not returned yet and swirling questions about what if he could not return and had to go back to his aunt and uncle began to rise. Cassy frowned at Neville, stating she would sooner go there and bring him back herself if that was the case and while Sirius nodded beside her, Hermione looked more dubious. Her eyes were fixed to the clock nervously.

'When he gets back, I'll have to make him a few sandwiches. He hardly ate breakfast. He'll be hungry. Oh, what's his favourite, what do we have?' rambled Mrs Weasley as she mulled around the kitchen noisily. As the pots were shoved into the cupboard for the third time as she rearranged them needlessly, a sudden sound from upstairs halted all movement. No one even dared to shift in their seat, listening carefully to the footsteps above. Two sets. Two people had returned.

The kitchen door opened quietly. The tattered, old shoes of Mr Weasley slipped onto the staircase first, then Harry's new trainers that Cassy had brought him for his birthday. Mr Weasley's face was blank and Harry looked as pale and uncertain as he ever did. Then, suddenly but too slowly for Cassy's liking, he broke out into a wide grin.

'I knew it!' cheered Ron, throwing a fist into the air.

'He got off, he got off,' cheered Fred, George, and Ginny over and over in a mantra.

'What took you so long?' reprimanded Cassy. She stood and Harry held out his arms for a hug. She pulled back after a few seconds. 'How did it go then?'

'Well, I'm not expelled,' he said brightly, laughing at Cassy's pointed stare. 'I won't be needing that wand, at least.'

'Consider it an open offer. It will still be there for next time you might need it,' she said.

'Expecting that soon?' he asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Well, you being you...' Cassy smirked and Harry pushed her shoulder playfully.

'Oh, Harry!' cried Hermione, unable to hold her relief in any longer. Even Harry's Seeker reflexes could not protect him from the lightning fast missile of tangled brown hair that Hermione had become. She wrapped her arms around his neck, dragging him down to her height. 'I knew you'd be fine.'

'Really? It looks like everyone's relieved, actually,' he teased.

'Yeah, well, for a moment we accidentally thought you were a normal person and worried you might not come back,' said Neville. He clapped Harry on the back with a grin.

'Well, if this one woman had her way I certainly wouldn't have been,' said Harry, finally being released.

When everyone was once again seated around the table and Harry had been forcefully fed several sandwiches, he began to tell them of his trial; how the time had been changed suddenly, how a toad-faced woman in pink had seemed to have an instant and formidable dislike for him, smiling often in a nasty, spiteful way that he was certain she thought was actually cute. Her voice was irritatingly high and sweet, but not nearly as much so as her penetrating, ringing giggle.

Small groups of cheerful chatter broke out across the table. Sirius and Mr Weasley were talking in hushed tones at the very end and Mrs Weasley was scolding Fred, George, and Ginny for their continuous chanting earlier as they threatened to renew it at the end of Harry's retelling. In amusement, Cassy turned to Harry, her eyes shining brightly. They dimmed slightly; Harry's hand had risen to his scar once again.

'Are you all right?' whispered Neville from across the table, having caught the gesture too.

'Fine,' said Harry quickly.

'Is it hurting again?' asked Hermione with a light frown.

'His scar?' queried Ron. 'Why would that hurt?'

'It doesn't. It's just a headache,' protested Harry sternly.

'He has not had a drink in over six hours, Harry is probably just slightly dehydrated,' voiced Cassy civilly.

Harry cast her a long, thankful side-long stare.

* * *

><p>Following the wonderful news of Harry's trial, spirits lifted and remained higher than they had been all summer. Even cleaning could not dampen them. In fact, as more and more rooms began to look the part they were built for everyone became even more joyous, knowing the tedious task was finally almost complete. Tonks had even remarked how Cassy had brightened up a lot since June.<p>

Sirius, on the other hand, seemed tense. The shorter the days became as they made way for the long autumn nights, he appeared to sink into himself somewhat, still smiling, but frowning whenever he thought no one was watching. Cassy had taken to watching his moods swap and change from a distance. There were too many ways to be brushed aside, too many ways to drive the delicate relationship the two had forged in captivity together away and place them both back at square one. She mentioned it in passing to Tonks instead, trusting her to pass a message on to Remus without prompting and to leave it to her father's old friend to stabilise his mood. She knew he did not want them to leave. He would be alone again. Hermione called him selfish; Neville called him lonely. Either description irritated Harry.

It was not until the final day of the holidays that the book list arrived. They should have arrived weeks ago, but Cassy had a suspicion that Professor Dumbledore had withheld theirs, just in case Harry had been expelled, or the sight of half a dozen school letters vanishing in the middle of London caught the eye of any unwanted witch of wizard. Mrs Weasley had inspected each of her children's lists in the kitchen, making note of each new book they needed and thankfully there were few. Ginny had all ready been given Ron's old books and Fred and George needed one for Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Ron another two. Cassy handed over money along with Harry and Hermione at breakfast, thanking her for the offer to get their books too as she bustled upstairs with her little list held tightly in her hand.

As discussion broke out about who the new Professor was, Fred and George stated their parents had been talking of how difficult Professor Dumbledore had found finding another replacement, and Ron stared gormless down at the letter in his hand. Only when Ginny asked what was wrong, did he tip the envelope. A single, metal badge fell onto the table.

'Prefect?' breathed Hermione. 'Oh, Ron, me too!'

Everyone's head snapped to her as she held up her own silver pin.

'Well, no surprise there,' said Fred, 'but _Ron?'_

'We thought it would be Harry!' added George. 'I suppose you've been in too much trouble though.'

Cassy watched as Harry's face flickered. His eyes remained fixed on Ron's pin, while his eyebrows twitched down a fraction and his lips rolled inwards just enough to be visible.

'Are you jealous?' she muttered curiously.

Harry turned to her in surprise and then scowled. 'Of course not.' He spoke too quickly.

'You have never expressed a desire to be Prefect before,' she commented, looking back to Ron. Fred and George had begun to make snide remarks, snatching the letter and badge from him, looking most aggrieved their younger brother had taken after Percy in status.

'I am not bitter, Cassy,' said Harry defiantly.

'Personally,' she said lowly, sliding her eyes to him as she faced the others, 'I was expecting Dean to be made Prefect. He always remains within the rules and is popular amongst the students. I am surprised Ron got it.'

Silently, she considered Ron as a Prefect. He had not broken the rules often and although he was hardly a model student in his work ethic, he did not stand out as an abuse of power either. Ron was close to Harry, yet distant enough to not be considered of use to him if anyone were to consider the Gryffindor Prefects, there would be no assumption he was given it in order to protect Harry's interests. If Harry had received it, given the recent articles, Professor Dumbledore would surely be accused of favouritism, allowing anyone who questioned Harry to be deducted points at his own desecration. Cassy did not voice this. She all ready knew by the look on her friend's face that her words about Dean had hit a nerve as intended. It merely proved Harry was jealous, although she was unsure as to why.

When Mrs Weasley came to bid them good-bye before her trip and Fred drew her attention to the badge still clutched in Ron's hand, Harry seemed to sink even more into himself. She gushed, sweeping him into a fierce hug in the knowledge four of her six sons had become prefects. Red with embarrassment, Ron wriggled his way out.

'You've got be have a reward for this! Would you like an owl like Percy? But then, you and Ginny share, so you don't really need one...' rambled Mrs Weasley in excitement.

'Mum, can I maybe have a broom?' asked Ron carefully, hopefully.

Mrs Weasley suddenly stopped moving and her smile became slightly pinched. Broomsticks had never been cheap and the Weasleys were always struggling month after month for money.

'Not a really good one, just a new one for a change. A Cleansweep maybe? There is a new one out that didn't seem so bad, but any, really,' said Ron quickly, trailing off as if awaiting the inevitable 'no' from his mother.

There was a slight pause, but Mrs Weasley smiled and kissed the top of his head. 'Of course you can. I'll have a look when I go to get the books.'

Fred and George jeered a moment more after their mother left the room before apparating back upstairs. It hardly seemed to concern Ron, who brushed Hermione's furious complaints of them aside, eagerly returning to his own room to make room in his trunk for his new broomstick. Harry remained slumped in his chair and Hermione admired her new badge with a look of glee, as if she had thought there was a possibility she might not have received it.

'Congratulations, Hermione,' said Cassy. 'I suppose this means you will stop your excursions with us now then?'

'There will be no excursions to be had,' said Hermione, staring at her sharply with her head still inclined.

'What are you going to do? Take points?' teased Ginny.

'Of course I will if you break the rules,' said Hermione.

'She will have given up by Christmas,' said Cassy flippantly. 'Say, Ginny, do you know if Prefects can take points from themselves?'

'Oh? I haven't thought about it before. I suppose we'll find out,' replied Ginny, her hand going to her chin thoughtfully.

'Absolutely not,' said Hermione flatly. 'Harry, do you mind if I borrow Hedwig? I want to write to my parents. I mean, they don't know a lot about magic, but they'll understand this.'

'Sure!' said Harry, his voice so cheerful and bright it would have been impossible to have discerned it was him if they had not been looking at him. 'Congratulations. It's great, perfect even. You must be happy.'

'Thanks,' said Hermione. She slipped from the room, casting a raised eyebrow at the other girls, who turned back to Harry with varying looks of wariness.

'I'm going to find Sirius,' he said, still terribly cheerful.

The kitchen door shut again. After a few seconds of silence, Cassy sighed. She would rather let him sulk by himself over a matter he had never cared for than to indulge the behaviour. He had expected it and why Cassy was unsure, because it was not as though Harry had ever expressed any interest. He was not even willing to do his homework on time, let alone take charge of extra responsibilities and he certainly had no intention of interacting more than he needed to with people outside of his friendship group. Try as she might, Cassy was incapable of understanding his train of thought just then. Soon, she stopped trying and resumed playing chess in her room with Ginny. Crookshanks sat with them, his yellow eyes watching in fascination as the tiny people rose and tore one another to pieces.

By dinner, Harry appeared to have calmed somewhat. He and Ron had finally finished packing and his voice, much to everyone's relief, had returned to its usual low tones than the sprite cheers of before. Tonks, Remus, Kingsley, Mrs Longbottom, Neville, and even Moody arrived for the meal and Butterbeers were spread between them as everyone arranged themselves in their regular pattern with the exception of Ron and Hermione. Mrs Weasley positioned them side by side, sitting with a large, scarlet banner above on the wall behind reading:

Congratulations

Ron and Hermione

New Prefects

With a blinding white flash, a photograph was taken of the scene. With a low whirring, the camera churned out a polaroid picture, that she flapped in her hands for a moment before beaming down at it warming.

'Straight in the photo album, I think,' she said, pocketing it in the front of her apron. 'I've let your dad and Bill know. They're coming back straight after work.'

Her good mood did not even decline when the arrival of the two Weasleys also brought along one Mundungus Fletcher. She simply waved down another chair from the upstairs dining room and slotted him on the end beside Fred and George, who looked ecstatic to see him again.

'Dumbledore must think you can withstand all the trouble being a figure of authority will bring. Curses and hexes will come flying your way, but if you couldn't withstand them then you wouldn't be appointed,' said Moody, raking his eyes over Ron slowly, looking as though he was trying to re-evaluate him based on this new development.

Ron stared in shock and Hermione nudged him under the table, urging him to reply.

'Ah, Alastor, I have been meaning to ask you,' said Mrs Weasley, pausing to lean on the table with one hand, 'there is something in the drawing room writing desk. I thought it might be a Boggart, but you can never tell with this place.'

Moody's magical eye swivelled upwards for a second, revolving back into his skull before he nodded. 'It is a Boggart. Do you want me to get rid of it, Molly?'

'Oh, no, that's fine. I can do it myself later. I just thought I'd make sure,' she said.

Soon, the food was spread across the table and everyone was reaching over one another to fill their plates. A short cough interrupted and Mr Weasley raised his bottle of Butterbeer, requesting a toast for Ron and Hermione. Drinks were raised and clinked together as everyone repeated their names. Hermione and Ron beamed and soon everyone was back to manoeuvring through arms and bumping elbows in an effort to get at the dish farthest away from them. Cassy, who settled for whatever dishes Tonks snatched and passed to her, had formed a rather strange collection of food on her plate, but considered it a triumph she had managed to get any at all with all of the stabbing forks.

Conversations broke out in tiny pockets all across the table. Tonks, Neville, and his grandmother had begun a curious conversation about Neville's parents being Aurors. Neville's eyes were fixed to Tonks, wanting to hear everything she had to say about the work, while Tonks wanted to know more about them, treading carefully around the formidable matriarch.

Mrs Weasley and Bill were discussing Bill's long hair as she tried once again in vain to persuade him to allow her to cut it. Ginny was unhelpful in aiding her mother, saying Bill looked 'cool' instead.

Hermione and Remus were discussing house-elf rights, while Harry, the twins, and Fletcher seemed to be discussing something beneath their breath, occasionally glancing at the others. Cassy's eyes had long since glazed over as Ron spoke about his broom. She understood very little about them and her interest was so minuscule that she had not absorbed a single word he had said. Sirius, on the other hand, was nodding and discussing the old brooms they had to work with when he played Quidditch.

Not long later, Mrs Weasley let out a large, loud yawn.

'I'm going to go and deal with that Boggart and retire for the night. Arthur, make sure these lot aren't up too late. I don't want any trouble in the morning,' she said, kissing him briefly before leaving.

Cassy turned to Harry, frowning slightly as he eyed the doorway longingly. Fred and George had disappeared at some point and Fletcher had returned to piling his plate with food. Before she could reign in his attention, Moody had shuffled around the table, taking residence in the empty seat beside him. Fletcher choked on his potato, but no one paid him any attention. With a crooked smile, Moody pulled a small, flat object from his inner pocket and held it out to Harry. From the slight flashes of colour on the opposite side, Cassy assumed it to be a photograph. She could not hear their conversation, but Harry did not smile back at him. As Moody pointed repeatedly at the photograph, Harry's expression only became grimmer, until his lips were pressed into a thin white line. It suddenly relaxed as Moody stopped talking, the quiet startling him from whatever thoughts he had delved into. Then, his chair scraped backwards and Harry hurried from the room, still wearing the forced, wonky smile.

Moody did not seem to mind as Sirius called his attention over, curious for the picture, but Cassy did not remain long enough to see if it would be passed around. With a scowl, Cassy traipsed up the stairs after him, planning ahead the words she wanted to use. There was no excuse for Harry's foul mood. He was being jealous for no reason and she wanted to know, to understand, exactly where it had come from. He had been pleasant and jovial in the last few weeks and it had unravelled before she had even had a chance to see it happening. It was no need to be so rude to Moody though.

Cassy's internal rant was cut short as she turned onto the first floor. In the doorway stood Harry, wide-eyed and obviously not sobbing. Silently, Cassy joined him, sparing enough time to glare up at him before eyeing the crying figure warily. She froze. On the floor with her head in her hands was Mrs Weasley. Her shoulders shook heavily, tears slipping between her fingers as a horribly choking erupted from her mouth with every breath. In front of her was Ginny, her eyes glazed and her freckled skin ashen.

Cassy opened her mouth and took a step closer. Ginny was downstairs, she had just seen her in the kitchen, unless she too had slipped from the room when her back was turned.

No, thought Cassy sharply. Ginny was still downstairs and this was a Boggart. It had to be, or else Harry would not be standing so still beside her.

'Mrs Weasley,' she called firmly, 'it is not real. Ginny is fine.'

There was another shaky sob before it cracked again and it was Mr Weasley, his glasses broken and his face mottled with bruises, his shirt coated thickly in blood.

Footsteps sounded behind them and Cassy instinctively moved aside to allow Remus to shoot past her. Sirius darted in after him and Moody strode past, flicking his wand and sending the creature back into the desk where it had come from.

'It was just a Boggart,' cooed Remus softly.

'I – I see them d-dead all the time. All of them, every one of the kids. W-what if Arthur and I am killed? Who will look after Ron and Ginny? Half the family is in the Order and if Fred and George had their way...' Mrs Weasley continued to cry, but she was desperately holding it in, dabbing her eyes with her apron.

'We have a head start this time, Molly, so don't think like that,' said Remus sharply.

'No one will be picked off this time,' said Sirius bitterly. 'And as for Ron and Ginny, we would hardly let them starve. I think their siblings would have an issue if we did. I imagine Bill would cause a storm.' He smiled somewhat and Molly nodded, the edges of her lips lifting crookedly.

'I'm just being silly, that's all,' she said with a sniff.

As they spoke, Harry had backed out of the room and without hesitation Cassy followed him down the hall. A hand rose to his forehead, scrubbing across it roughly.

'What is wrong with you?' asked Cassy. The sudden voice made Harry jumped. He had clearly expected to slip away unnoticed and he was unable to hide the disappointed scowl flickering across his face as he turned.

'Nothing,' he snapped.

'Really? Why are you so angry and why are you rubbing your scar?' she questioned, her own scowl contorting her face.

'None of your business!' he growled. Quickly, he pulled open his bedroom door and slammed it shut behind him. There was no turning of the key, he was unable to lock Ron out for the night after all, it would be easy to barge inside and demand answers, but Cassy did not take another step towards him. Instead, she slammed shut her own door, making sure it was loud enough to rattle their shared wall.

Cassy did not have time to put up with his whining. She did not have the patience. She did not have the will to work through all of the problems whirling through his mind, half of them undoubtedly self-created in some need to feel bitter about his position, when really he should have been relieved he was returning to the castle tomorrow. He had never wanted to be Prefect and he had never wanted to be alone, yet he was managing to feel jealous and alienate everyone all in one move.

It would be simpler if she could spend the rest of her life in solitude, with only her own mind as a companion. At least then she would be ensured good company.

He can come to me about it then, she thought bitterly, spreading her arms wide across her double bed. She sunk into the soft duvet, glaring holes into the white ceiling above. Let him drown in his own thoughts if he wanted to. No one had let her and there would have been nothing she would have liked more than to spend the last six weeks entrapped in her own crushing thoughts, to be swallowed by her own feelings and to never see a smiling face. No one had let her. She was called each time she spent too long out of sight. Keeping busy did nothing but delay the feelings, it pushed them out of mind and out of sight, but when they resurfaced, they were always stronger than before. The only one who seemed to understand was Sirius.

Alphard would not have called her. He would have let her mind herself. If Alphard were alive, she would not have to, a voice repeated over and over again in her mind.

Had Cassy not gone to the Quidditch World Cup last summer then Alphard would have been alive. Except she had. She had gone to see her friends and to be part of a wonderful surprise for the very boy who had just slammed a door in her face and told her to mind her own business. Being kind had achieved nothing at all for her, except an unwavering ache in her bones each morning. It had been just over a year since Alphard had been injured. It had been ten weeks and five days since he had passed.

Cassy's eyes burnt.

A loud knock sounded at her door. Cassy's eyes reached up to her face, her palms digging into her eyes to stop the hot welling within them. The door knocked again. She breathed out a deep breath. A third and final knock rang through. Silence followed and Cassy waited for the footsteps to disappear back down the hall. Her door opened.

Cursing herself inwardly, Cassy quickly sat up. She turned to the door, her expression dangerously flat as she eyed the red-head who popped her head through it.

'Cassy?' asked Ginny. 'Are you all right?'

'I am fine,' said Cassy, her voice calmer and stronger than she felt by far.

'You didn't answer the door,' said Ginny.

'I know,' said Cassy. There was a slight pause. 'Is there something you needed?'

'I was going to ask you if you wanted to play Gobstones with us downstairs,' she said with a slight frown.

'I am really tired, actually. I think I will just get an early night, lest I be irritable on the train tomorrow,' said Cassy, forcing smile that appeared so genuine Ginny was smiling back.

'Yeah, okay. Well, goodnight,' she said, before she closed the door again.

Cassy waited until the sound of her footsteps were completely gone and then rose to turn the key in her door. With a deep sigh, she resumed her position on the bed. Hours passed and she lay there. Silent and unmoving, she stared at the ceiling, staring past it even, as her eyes glazed over and the images in her mind took over her sight. She feared she had stumbled across a dangerous line of thought; one she had tried to avoid for the past few months.

She had never been foolish enough to assume Alphard would be by her side forever, but she had expected a few more years. She had expected him to at least see her become the success he had always told her she was capable of; she had expected him to see her grown and to graduate; she had expected him to be alive long enough to teach her the secrets of the Black family, all of the tricks of the trade and introduce her to the connections that made it all possible all of those years. Yet, expectations were made to be broken. He would not see her graduate, or excel in her career; he would not get to give her a boost in life as promised and he would not get to teach her any more of his little life lessons she had held so dear for so many years. Cassy would have to do it by herself. She would have to work it all out by herself.

Perhaps, she thought as he limbs ached with a desire to finally sleep, that was why she was so excited to be returning to Hogwarts. It was frustrating to be surrounded under constant supervision, told what she could and could not do all the time by people she hardly knew. She had been forced to clean from dawn until dusk each day, spending her waking hours with people who had all shared the same daily experiences. Conversations had often run dry and their presences wore and rubbed roughly against one another from prolonged exposure.

At Hogwarts, she would be over looked. She could work out her own vision, the path that she wanted to take without being ordered from left to right. She could escape those who irritated her in the vast castle landscape and find time for herself amongst the bodies of noisy students. No longer would she be stuck inside day after day, repeating the same chores and actions, the same conversations to the same faces. She would get to work on her future. She would get to work it out and she needed all the time she could give herself to make up for what she had lost, for what she missed more than anything.

As she finally closed her eyes, still in the clothes she had worn that day, Cassy's final thought was that she should invest in a book on Occulmency. It would stop those traitorous thoughts rising and she rather fancied herself her best company at that moment. Besides, she thought, it would make a much needed hobby.

* * *

><p><strong>I thought Harry was a bit unnecessarily moody over the badges. At no point did he even seem like he cared before Ron got it. Cassy is a bit irritable about it because Harry does become a bit of a nightmare teen in some of these instances. He needs to learn to express things a little more and just admit he's mad at Dumbledore and much of his anger would be gone by Christmas! <strong>

**Thankfully, Cassy's on her way out and back to Hogwarts, but whether that's really a good thing you'll have to find out.**

**Also, the next few chapters need some tweaking. I wrote them in bulk a while ago and reading them back I can't help but ask myself why I thought some of it was a good idea. My characterisation of Cassy went out the window for bits of it and I hate three of the chapters quite a lot. So I need to re-write them. I will try and do it quickly, but they are important ones in the progress of my plotlines. **

**Thanks!**


	8. Broken expectations

C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl

**Chapter VIII: Broken expectations**

There was something peculiar, Cassy noted, with her eyes drawn shut. A strange coolness appeared and disappeared from her cheek, a soft _tap tap_ in the otherwise silent surroundings. Her body was warm, more comfortable that she could ever recall feeling in her life, but the pressure on her cheek was becoming annoying. She rolled over and brought the covers higher towards her chin. Although now not as comfortable, she smiled to herself as a weight was pulled away from behind her at her sudden action. There was a blissful second where she expected she might drift back to sleep, before cold, bony little fingers clamped around her nose.

Cassy flailed. She shoved her covers back and bolted upright, shoving the little grey hand from her face.

'Plum!' she reprimanded. 'I asked you to wake me, not suffocate me!'

'That was not Plum's intention, Mistress,' squeaked Plum.

Cassy pursed her lips. 'I told you not to call me "Mistress" either.' She hated the way it sounded. Cassy was always 'Miss', never the head of the House.

'But that is what Mistress is,' said Plum as she wrung her hands uncomfortably.

She sighed deeply. There was no use.

'Mistress, are you getting out of bed?' asked Plum, her hands still contently patting at Cassy's head.

'Not with any delight,' murmured Cassy.

Sighing, she threw the covers to one side and rubbed her palms into her blurry eyes. Of all the days her mind decided it was going to be quiet and allow her to sleep in late, it had to be the one she was required to wake early. There was no rush in her movements as she dressed or tied back her hair. Although it was all ready half-seven, there was no doubt that the Weasley children would not stir for quiet some while and Mrs Weasley would be only beginning to cook breakfast, having left it late again as she apparently did every year. Ginny had explained they had always been rushing for as far as she could remember, her mother never quite grasped managing seven children at once; Cassy considered it a cause for congratulations that she had never let them miss the train with that many noisy, head-strong children that made up the Weasley family to conduct.

She put on a simple green dress, intending to change the moment they were on the train to avoid the late rush of bodies, and tied her black brogues she wore with her uniform as to prevent having to scavenge in her trunk later on.

The leather trunk was left at the top of the staircase. Walburga was all ready grumbling as Cassy passed, as though she could sense the riot that was only a matter of time. Down in the kitchen, steam filled the windowless room and an assortment of delicious smells wafted up into the hall. Mrs Weasley fluttered around the stove with more pans than hands. Sausages sizzled and pancakes were stacked high on the side. Mr Weasley and Remus were engaged in a discussion of the rout to take later that morning, although Tonks looked as though she should have been involved, her nose was inches from her breakfast as she spooned porridge into her open mouth and her eyes were fixed on the back of the absurdly widely opened paper.

Behind that paper was Sirius, who only peered around the edges when Cassy pulled out the seat beside him.

'Morning,' he said, rather glumly.

'Good morning,' she replied.

'M'n'ng,' came Tonks' slurred greeting.

'Charming,' said Cassy.

Tonks smiled up at her cheekily.

Long after she had finished her meal, Cassy remained in the kitchen. Maps had been extracted and a fraction of the Order of the Phoenix stood around them, directing the pathways the teens would take to the station with the utmost care. It was imperative that no one supposed their divisions and their paths peculiar, but also that they were short and contained as to minimise potential open threats. The seven of them were to be split and divided amongst the Order members.

Just as Cassy memorised each rout they were divided into – herself with just Hermione – Mrs Weasley turned to her sharply. Quickly, Cassy ducked her head down to the newspaper and pretended to be reading the weather forecast interestedly. There was no reprimand for being present during their supposedly secret plans, but rather a flustered flutter and the crinkling of cloth as she wiped her hands hurriedly on her apron.

'Cassy, can you go and wake everyone? They should have been up an hour ago!' fretted Mrs Weasley.

'Of course, Mrs Weasley,' said Cassy.

The faint grumblings of Walburga continued to sound as Cassy sauntered by her portrait once more. She turned off at the first floor, passing Harry and Ron's room and knocked loudly on a bare, ornate door. Behind it, there was a soft grunt and the swish of bedsheets. Bare feet padded across the wooden floor to the door and a messy head of brown hair slipped into view.

'Is it time to get up?' asked Hermione as she rubbed her blurry eyes. 'What time is it?'

'Quarter-to-ten.'

'Oh, all ri – what? What do you mean it's quarter-to-ten!' shrieked Hermione.

'What?' sounded the alarmed voice of Ginny from behind the door. 'I haven't finished packing!'

'You said you'd done it last night,' retorted Hermione.

'Yeah, well...'

The door was slammed shut. Blinking and with a mildly amused glint in her eyes, Cassy turned on her heals and walked back down the hall. Again, she walked straight by the door beside her own.

Fred and George were not as easily awakened as Hermione and Ginny. As loudly as she knocked, there was no reply. There was no call of vague acknowledgement, or even a grunt or the rustling of sheets as they stirred at the sound. After debating the dangers, Cassy turned to nob and threw open the door loudly into the stack of boxes behind. There was a sharp yell and Fred slipped of the bed

'Bloody hell, Woman!' gasped George, sitting stiffly upright in shock.

Cassy caught the swinging door on the way back to her and poked her head slightly further into the room. 'Your mother wants you up. The train leaves in an hour.'

'You could have just knocked,' said Fred from the floor.

Cassy cast him a disdainful frown and swept the door shut. It was only after a leisurely descent and having strained her ears to listen to Sirius and Mrs Weasley bicker loudly in the kitchen two floors below, did Cassy bother to wake up the last sleeping occupants of the house.

After having loitered in the hall for five-minutes with half-hearted knocks as her attempt to wake the boys, Hermione emerged further down the hall, toothbrush in hand.

'Are they still not up?' she asked.

'Terrible, aren't they?' said Cassy flatly.

Hermione's knuckles rapt loudly against the door. She called through, 'We're leaving in a bit. You'll miss breakfast.'

There was a thud on the other side.

'Well, Ron's up,' said Hermione, her eyebrows raised high. She turned to leave just as the door was pulled open and Harry's dishevelled self almost knocked the girls flying.

'Why did no one wake us up?' he asked quickly.

'Cassy tried,' offered Hermione.

'I tried my absolute hardest,' agreed Cassy flatly and lowly, with half-lidded eyes.

Hermione turned to her suspiciously, but Cassy paid her no mind.

'We leave in ten minutes,' she said spiritedly and patted Harry's arm. She smiled widely as his eyes opened in groggy alarm and Cassy slipped back into her own room next door.

She scanned the shelves quickly and took one last look under her bed for anything that might have been forgotten. It was only when she went to collect Crin's cage did she take notice of the green and gold clown on the mantelpiece. Narcissa had brought it for her. It sat beside the carved dog her father had brought her the year before, and next to the flowering plant she had taken from her living room in Canterbury. Cassy slowly took the plant as she eyed the clown gingerly. She had not paid it much attention all summer, having chosen to partially hide it behind a framed photo instead. Her anger at Narcissa, Lucius, and Draco had not faded much, if any in the weeks that followed. If anything, she might have considered herself to be angrier as time continued.

The idea of having to speak with Draco was the only dampener on her good spirit at finally escaping Grimmauld Place. She had thought over what she wanted to say many times all ready, each having descended into some sort of insult towards the end, if not from her then towards her; she had never been so uncertain that he would not want to hear what she had to say as she was then.

The little plant was placed at the bottom of Crin's cage for lack of a better storage option and Cassy turned to her giant, grey owl with an expectant expression. Crin stared back, his eyes half-lidded and his toes wrapped tightly around the back of her chair.

'Crin, in, please,' asked Cassy.

Crin stared.

'If you do not come with me then I will be forced to give all my letters to Pigwidgeon to carry,' she said.

Crin clicked his beak and reluctantly fluttered into his carrier, after casting Cassy a particularly loathsome look.

Cassy stuck several treats through the bars of the cage, but Crin merely turned his back to her, making it very clear how offended he was by her comment. She rolled her eyes, 'Stubborn owl.'

When Cassy sauntered back into the hall, scraping and scrambling could be heard in the room next door as Harry and Ron rushed to collect their things. Sirius stood at the top of the stairs, shifting the trunk Cassy had left their in his arms.

'All right there, Sirius? Need a hand?' called Remus' voice from downstairs.

Sirius turned with a scowl. 'Muscle atrophy had not got me yet,' he said and lifted the trunk higher over his head. He wobbled violently and dropped it back down to the floor, barely catching himself before he slipped down the stairs.

'Sirius!' cried Mrs Weasley. 'Honestly!'

Remus' laughter echoed up and Cassy passed her father to hurry downstairs before he tried to lift her belongings again.

'Awh, Molly, I didn't know you cared,' called Sirius gleefully, a wide grin on his face.

'If you ruin the shelves after I've just arranged them I'll have your head,' said Mrs Weasley.

Sirius and Remus laughed loudly. Mrs Weasley turned her head with her own playful smile on her lips and Sirius heaved the trunk up once again, carefully to avoid the shelves set deep into the walls along the way. He set the case down and flexed his arms as he looked towards Cassy.

'What have you got in there? Bricks?'

'Not as strong as you think?' asked Cassy, smirking.

'I am plenty strong enough! I was a Beater on the Gryffindor team from my third-year onwards. I used to be really fit when I was young. I am just not built to be scrawny – unlike James, who only started growing when he was sixteen,' he said, as if that settled everything.

Cassy's eyebrows dipped a fraction as she inwardly debated admitting she knew as well as he did that he was designed to be as willowy in build as she was, no matter what he might want others to believe.

Hermione and Ginny appeared on the top of the stairs, both looking rushed with their dishevelled hair. The cardigan around Ginny's waist was even inside out. In one hand each they dragged their trunks and in the other they held the carriers of Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon respectively. The heavy trunks pulled across the wooden floor, scraping and creaking with each exertion to navigate the maze of littered artefacts that still lined the hall. Sirius moved to help them, glancing sideways at Cassy as he managed both trunks with what almost looked like grace this time. She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms.

'We are not built to be physically powerful,' she maintained.

Sirius ignored her pointed stare. 'Speak for yourself. Black's are usually physically imposing, then there is you with your tiny height,' he huffed carting the luggage past her and out of the way of the door.

'Is there something wrong with being short?' asked Ginny, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. Equally matched, she and Cassy were the same height, whereas Luna was an inch or so taller and Hermione taller than her. She gave a pointed stare down at Sirius, who waved his hand flippantly.

'No need to get offended, I am sure short people have done great things to,' he said teasingly.

Ginny opened her mouth to retort when two thunderous bangs sounded from above. There was another and another and everyone turned to eye the top of the stairs as the sound drew closer with each thud. Two large trunks flew into sight, flinging themselves around the corner of the second staircase and straight towards the front door.

'Ginny, mo-' began Hermione sharply, but she was too slow. The trunks crashed into Ginny's chest, sending her tumbling backwards down the stairs. Noisily, she landed at the bottom by Hermione's feet, the cases laid haphazardly over her as she groaned lowly.

In an instant, Hermione had ducked to pull her free and Cassy appeared at her side to heave the trunks out of the way. Sirius crouched in front of her.

'Are you all right?' he asked, his hand following hers to grope at the back of her head. When Ginny hissed, he edged his way around Hermione to weave his hands through her red hair, humming as he inspected.

'Fred, George! For goodness sake, you do not need to use your wands for everything!' sounded Mrs Weasley's shriek from the top floor. Walburga's portrait became to groan at the sound, but everyone ignored it. Just as Fred and George appeared at the top of the staircase, so did Mrs Weasley. The pair had no time to retreat at the sight, for she had gripped their ears very tightly while her face began to colour. 'You could have – Ginny! What – did you two knock your sister down the stairs!' It was not a question, although it sounded like one. There was a dangerous bite in Mrs Weasley's voice that dared anyone to disagree, warning them of a building wrath behind her usually warm brown eyes.

Fred and George let out identical cries before she let go, their hands flung to their offended red-raw ears. Mrs Weasley did not so much as glance back at them and instead bustled to Ginny's side where her face crumpled into concern as though she had never been angry.

'She's not bleeding, although she did hit her head,' said Sirius, standing quickly.

'Oh, thank-you, Sirius,' said Mrs Weasley warmly.

He stared in surprise at her affectionate tone and before he could do something to persuade her otherwise he retreated back to the pile of luggage to heave the twins' things into place.

The kitchen door opened and numerous bodies piled out. The entrance hall was beginning to get crowded, as Moody, Tonks, Remus, and Mr Weasley filed their way to the front door. Tonks raised her eyebrows at the scene and grinned at Cassy.

'Nothing like a bit of mayhem to begin the school year, ay?' she joked. 'How are you feeling?'

'Fine,' said Cassy honestly. 'I am looking forward to returning.'

'Good, good. The first week is always the best of fifth-year because the teachers assume you can't remember anything from the last year, so you get less difficult homework. Then that will pick up and you will slowly be consumed by work. Not a nice year, fifth-year,' said Tonks fondly.

Cassy stared at her with her eyes half-narrowed, unsure exactly how to interpret the conflicting tone and message.

'I want you to write to me and whatever if anything is wrong and if anyone gives you trouble then you should give them hell, okay?' Tonks was both frowning and smiling formidably, her fist was raised and shaking slightly, as if threatening the imaginary children.

Cassy huffed a laugh and Mrs Weasley looked up at the pair of them in disapproval. 'That isn't good advice, Tonks.'

Tonks shrugged. 'It's fine. This way I get to be the cool guardian, right?' She winked at Cassy and Ginny burst into a fit of giggles while her mother sighed heavily.

'Boys, hurry up we need to leave!' called Mrs Weasley, still shaking her head.

Although it could have been considered counter-productive – and on any other day Cassy would have indeed thought so – she took great enjoyment from watching Harry run down the stairs in panic. He had haphazardly dressed, pausing on the stairs to shove his feet into his all ready laced-up trainers; Ron stopped just behind him and put his hand on Harry's back as an impromptu support so he could fasten his own shoes.

Satisfied with the alarm on his face, his crumpled clothing, and his ridiculously dishevelled hair, Cassy felt her irritation at his actions the previous day melt away.

'For goodness sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!' cried Mrs Weasley. Her voice was so sharp that Harry and Ron jumped and almost slipped down the remaining steps.

Noisily, a large, black dog clambered over the luggage. He let out a long warble, his tail thumping as he sat himself at the bottom of the stairs nearest to Harry.

'Fine!' huffed Mrs Weasley. 'Do as you please.'

Cassy gave Sirius a restrained smile as he turned to her, careful not to let Mrs Weasley see it. His tongue lolled out the side of his mouth in the closest thing to a grin a dog could give. Her eyes glittered with internal laugher and Sirius' tail beat harder on the floor with excitement to leave.

Tonks placed her hand on Cassy's shoulder. 'We better get a move on. All right, you and Hermione are coming with me. If anyone asks, Hermione, you've been spending the last week with us. We'll split up and take the rout closest to home and meet everyone at the station. We should be the last ones there.'

'Keep an eye out, Kid,' instructed Moody with a short nod.

'Will do, Mad-Eye,' replied Tonks. She seized Crin's cage and Crookshank's basket awkwardly in one hand and ushered Cassy and Hermione out the door at long last.

Cassy breathed the warm September air in. It was not the same having to feel the warmth in the beams of light that stretched across the dark stained floors, or to have the chill of a welcomed breeze trail softly in through an open window. She never expected to miss the outdoors, always having enjoyed being cooped inside thoughts whirling from old books and maps, but after two months of not having left the squalid house of her ancestors, she could think of nothing better.

'It's bad when the air of London is probably cleaner than in the house,' said Hermione, only half joking.

The luggage was left in the house for Moody to transport and they were thankful it was. The streets were bustling on the late Sunday morning. Muggles filled the streets, their cars barely stopping for the red traffic lights and their bags swinging dangerously on the paths as everyone rushed to the nearest underground entrance. It would have been impossible to navigate with their large trunks. Their unusual pets had all ready acquired more than a few strange looks.

Cassy carried Crin's cage in her arms, it being too large to hang from her lowered hands without scraping the floor. His narrowed eyes stared in loathing up at her, but she paid him no attention. Instead, she stared in false interest at the shops they passed, pointedly avoiding Hermione's searching stare.

Eventually, when Cassy had managed to glaze over her obvious silent call for attention, Hermione sighed and spoke anyway. 'Are you and _him_ fighting?'

'No,' responded Cassy lightly.

'We heard the doors slam last night,' continued Hermione. 'That's why we asked you to play a game with us. We thought you had a fight.'

'We are fine,' said Cassy truthfully. Her anger was gone all ready and as long as Harry did not sink into bitterness on the train then she did not expect it to return. 'I was just a bit vexed.'

'Well, as long as you're all right now. No one likes it when you two fight,' said Hermione with a smile.

Cassy smiled back.

'Did you find out why he was so weird though?'

'No, he was just being a prat,' said Cassy.

'I'm sure he'll sort himself out soon. He will probably be back to his old self once he's out of _there_,' joined Tonks, keeping as ambiguous as possible in case of listening ears. 'He just needs some good friends. Stick together and you guys will be fine.'

At the platform, they met the Weasleys. Mr Weasley's eyes were fixed on a spot some distance away, where a large trolley of trunks was being wheeled to the end of the train. As Cassy craned her neck to see where Moody was going, she spotted the lanky frame of Harry, with an old woman and Mrs Weasley by his side some distance onwards. Remus had spotted them too, waving to Arthur and ushering the teens down the platform through the throng of bubbly students.

As they got closer, a bark sounded and Sirius sat beside Harry with his tail thumping again. Several school children had turned to comment on the giant, bear-like dog and he was repaying their curiosity well with his attention. The children cooed. Mrs Weasley rolled her eyes when several of the students complimented Harry on his dog.

Tonks sneaked up beside Cassy and wrapped her arm around her in a short side hug.

'I'll see you soon, remember what I said, all right? I have to go. I'm technically on a work break to be here. Can't be too suspicious now,' she whispered.

Cassy nodded and smiled. She waved as Tonks quickly excused herself, sinking into the crowd and vanishing as her features morphed unrecognisably amongst the oncoming families.

'Sturgis is almost becoming as unreliable as Mundungus,' muttered Moody.

The train whistle blew loudly. Students began to push forward towards the doors and the sounds of calling parents and shrieking siblings filled the platform. A blunt force hit Cassy's hip. She looked down expecting it to be a child who had been looking the other way as they ran, but instead she stared into the grey eyes of her father's dog form. He barked, clawing at her leg.

'Yes, yes,' she said with a smile. 'Goodbye, I expect I will see you at Christmas.'

He barked again and jumped at her, almost knocking her to the ground as his massive paws lay against her shoulders. He retreated, nearly flattening a passing child before jumping at an unsuspecting Harry. Mrs Weasley sharply tried to pull Harry away, but Sirius had none of it and Harry did not look too concerned, laughing loudly instead.

With a glance over to Hermione, Cassy nodded her head towards the train. Waving goodbye to Mr and Mrs Weasley, Cassy and Hermione boarded the train. They were certain the others would find them, they just had to find Neville and Luna, the former of whom had promised to secure seats at the back of the train; out of sight, out of mind, with any luck for the year ahead and not just the train.

Behind them, Cassy could faintly hear the high, piecing sounds of Pigwidgeon squawking in excitement. A short glance over her shoulder showed her and Harry to be only a few students behind. She almost walked into the back of Hermione when the other stopped suddenly to open a compartment door. Neville rose quickly to slide open the door as Hermione wrestled with Crookshanks' basket. Luna scooted across on the seat to make way for their luggage to be passed overhead, a small cage of her own on her lap.

'Is that Venus?' asked Cassy, sitting opposite her.

'Yes,' said Luna fondly, sticking her finger between the bars. 'She is quite upset about travelling. Does Crin become like that?'

'Crin is always unimpressed,' said Cassy flatly.

'I didn't know you had a new owl, Luna,' said Hermione, seating herself beside Cassy.

'Well, I did not expect you to answer a letter if I sent one,' said Luna, her tone pleasant, but her words terribly frank.

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, appearing mildly offended, when the compartment door opened again. Ginny poked her head in first, then dropped herself down beside Luna before she gave her a sideways embrace. Hedwig and Pigwidgeon were soon wedged into the racks above and Harry shut the door. As he turned to sit, he paused. A grin broke across his face.

A loud bark sounded from outside their window. Two large paws scraped on the windowsill and a joyful looking face appeared, his muzzle against the glass, casting great steamed circles from his warm breath.

Cassy waved and Harry beamed. Laughter echoed through the compartment as the train began to move. The paws fell from the ledge and the dog began to sprint, weaving through the on looking parents. The slowly blurring faces of those on the platform were full of mirth at the site of the huge dog running alongside the train; then he vanished as the platform was suddenly cut short and the grey streets of London replaced it.

'He's in a good mood today,' said Neville with a smile.

Cassy was not so certain he was in reality, but she did not comment.

Conversation soon erupted over what they had been doing in the time Neville had missed and, although very patchy and out of any sense of time order, Harry, Neville, and Ginny began to fill Luna in on what she had missed altogether. There was much to tell her and she listened curiously, not at all put out by the converging voices. They only paused to bid good-bye to Hermione as she excused herself in favour of the prefect compartment.

Out of the window, shops began to give way the houses, then to trees and parks between larger, more distinct homes with large gardens and long driveways. It was not long before London had vanished all together.

Slowly, Cassy began to withdraw. A steady, dull pulsating had begun behinds her eyes. Tiredly, she rubbed them. As conversation moved onto Luna's father's latest articles in _The Quibbler, _laughter rang through her ears, grating and winding her tired bones in knots. Her eyes slipped shut, her head on the palm of her hand. If she tried hard enough, she could almost block out the world. The trundling train did nothing to energise her, if anything she merely felt more inclined to curl up and sleep. The rest she had missed last night, and many nights before it for many weeks as her mind bled itself dry with repetitive thought, had finally caught up with her. She considered sleeping for a time, if only she had the ability to sleep with the knowledge of curious eyes and telling conversation. Despite her doubts, Cassy's eyes began to grow heavier. Then, the compartment door opened.

Her eyes snapped open. She only turned her head half-way, eyeing the unwelcome visitor with a flat stare. Only, the visitor was not so unwelcome to everyone else. Standing there with a small, shy smile and glistening black eyes was Cho Chang. Her eyes were fixed firmly on Harry.

Any remaining happiness in Cassy died.

'Excuse me,' said Cassy abruptly. She moved from her seat, grabbed her robes from her trunk, and slipped out of the door before anyone could comprehend she had spoken. Seeing Harry lose his wit over a girl was not high on her priorities that day; no amount of sleep on the train would cure the unjust jealousy that would blossom and no glittering green eyes would subdue her into gentle concession from it either. Instead, there was something that required urgent attention. Her time could be better used than to wind herself up over a girl who had done nothing to warrant her dislike. No small amount of glee bubbled in her stomach, a wild anticipation that could only be born through weeks of waiting, of planning meticulously each and every word. It was the worst time to broach the subject, but an excuse to leave the compartment none the less. She was restless and tired. It was not the moment for diplomatic conversation, but then Cassy found she did not want one. The expectations of past weeks shattered and crumbled effortlessly, giving way to an emotional and sharp-tongued desire to speak. She wanted to speak and make him listen, and she wanted to listen and make him speak, whether he wanted to or not. She was too close to him now to practise the words she had gathered at such an impersonal distance.

Cassy's sharp, steel-blue eyes raked over each and every compartment. The longer she walked, the more a small voice in the back of her mind told her it was ridiculous and that she should wait until school. Each time that voice spoke up, a louder, darker, more _Black_ voice told her it was her right and she should have it on her terms. Compartment after compartment was filled with unfamiliar faces. On occasion, there was one that she knew she recognised in passing, but the white-blond hair she was combing the student body for was nowhere to be seen.

Silently, she slipped into one of the many toilets on the long steam train. Her casual clothing was exchanged for her school uniform, the others stuffed into the satchel she had slipped her uniform into for ease of transport the night before. When she exited, the corridor of the train was still largely empty, the muffled sounds of excited conversations leaking through the doors, except there was a small gaggle of awkwardly tall boys and eagerly conversing girls. Amongst them were Hermione and Ron, the latter of whom stood taller than the rest with boredom smeared across his freckled face. Behind him was Draco.

Striding, Cassy approached with a blank, controlled face. Hermione spotted her first, but Cassy slipped by, clutching Draco's arm tightly. She pulled him further up the train, ignoring his disgruntled mutterings. He did not resist. Behind her, Pansy Parkinson was calling something in a shrill, teasing tone and Hermione's chilled laughter followed it; Cassy did not have time to watch the fight break out, although she thought she would have dearly loved to. Instead, when they were far enough up the train, almost outside the conductor's door, she released Draco.

He stared down at her with a scowl.

'Prefect, I see,' she said, eyeing the shining green badge on his chest.

'I see you are not,' he drawled.

'I suppose there were people just better suited, Malfoy,' she suggested curtly. Her tone remained even and polite.

Draco's nose crinkled a bit further. 'Has it come to that now?'

'Well, you have always called me "Black" in front of others,' she said lightly, as if offering to pour an acquaintance a drink at work.

'That never really mattered, did it? You never bothered to keep our association low,' he scoffed.

There was a pregnant pause. The wheels of the train could be heard churning and the whistle blew loudly. It was far louder at the front of the train. Even the smoke from the chimneys fluttered down in thick wisps, trailing their pale tendrils past the nearest windows. It almost seemed as if the two of them were alone.

'Why did you not attend Alphard's funeral?' asked Cassy quietly. Her voice was soft, barely audible against the rumbling of the train

'Why did you not invite me?' retorted Draco.

There was a slight pause before a loud 'Pardon?' rang down the corridor. Cassy's voice forgot the sudden vulnerability it had unwillingly adopted and returned back to the tone of fury that had circled her head since she had awoke.

How dare he? She thought. How could he think that?

'Even if I was furious, if I had had the desire to string you from the top of the Astronomy Tower by your ankles, I still would have invited you!' she growled. She did not shout. Her voice dipped dangerously low and she stepped forward, her nose almost against Draco's chin as he refused to back away; his own face twisted into an incredulous scowl. 'I was angry and upset at the end of last year, but how can you think I would be so petty as to deprive you of your uncle's funeral? Do not try and blame me, Draco. You chose not to attend, you and your damned parents. You failed to attend the final farewell of a man who helped raise you for fourteen-years and for what? Because Alphard did not give your mother custody of me?'

'What the hell are you talking about?' snapped Draco. 'You were the one who refused to live with us, even after my father agreed to sort it all out for you. You said you would rather live with that stupid half-blood than us.'

'Lucius never said any such thing,' she said, setting her jaw. 'In case you have forgotten, I am also a half-blood.'

'You are not a half-blood who wanders around with bright pink hair! Anyway, what do you mean he didn't offer? Of course he did. You said no,' said Draco, almost spitting the last sentence as he lurched forward.

Cassy did not back away and the pair stood almost nose to nose.

'I have not seen your father since the World Cup last year,' she said icily. Inwardly, she thinks that she would have said no if offered, but that was a conversation for another time.

'That's not what my mother said. She said you told us to stay away, just like how you avoided me at the end of last year. Do you not think I wanted to see if you were all right? To speak about Alphard? He was my uncle too, Cassy! You avoided me and you did not even invite us to the funeral. I suppose you think you have it all with your Mudbloods and Blood-Traitors. You have never been the same since you started hanging out with Potter,' hissed Draco. 'You chose them over your own family. Mother told me all about your letter, telling her what a coward you thought my father is and how pathetic she is for staying with a man like him, you said you would stay with her, if not for him. You have never liked him, but you crossed a line. I have tried to overlook your _weird_ collection of friends, but I cannot any more. You have changed, become disgusting and I cannot even recognise you anymore. Family always meant so much to you, but I suppose you have found your place with the misfits and the filth. You picked your side.'

There was no immediate reaction from Cassy. She stared, eyes wide and mouth slightly open from where she had attempted to cut him off early. No sound had left her mouth as the words tumbled from his, full of spite and loathing, full of lies.

'Narcissa said that?' she asked weakly. She no longer cared for her tone. All Cassy cared for was squashing down the devastation that was flooding her body from head to toe, gripping her heart and drowning her brain, making her unable to move and unable to speak. Her voice refused to crack further. 'I sent four invitations, one after another when there was no reply. I wanted you to be there, I wanted – I wanted to have someone there that understood, that I could speak to. I did not care for the differences between Alphard and Narcissa! I wanted her there! I wrote to her, but she never wrote back. Not once.'

Cassy cursed herself. Colours of the wall beside her cousin's head threatened to blur together, to become indistinguishable as hot tears rose in her eyes. All the anger she had felt, the rage and the pain of the past weeks that had been allowed to grow and to blossom into hateful little thoughts relished the news. She blinked tightly. She would not cry.

'I kept three seats spare at the front of the cremation for you, just in case you were going to show. I had hoped that perhaps the letter got lost, that you were going to appear and I kept looking, hoping – but I was so _stupid_, so _idiotic_ to ever think that I ever meant more to the Malfoys than the ward of Alphard. If I had been younger, or the circumstances different, your parents would have left me to starve on the streets. You are right, I have picked a side. I picked the people who actually _care for me._'

There was only a split second where Cassy dared to glance beyond Draco's eyes and at the rest of his face. Her mind told her he was stricken, almost distraught, but then the analysis was smothered by a bitter internal laugh. He was surely smug. He must have loved to see her so overcome. She pushed away harshly, swinging both her hands into his chest and shoving him against the wall. Stumbling, she turned quickly, her head ducked low and away from any potential eyes of the students in the compartments. Her feet carried her quickly – but not running, Cassy refused to give Draco the satisfaction – to the nearest toilet. It was fortunately unlocked.

The door was slammed shut. Watery rimmed eyes stared back in the mirror from the effort not to cry, the rich blue of her irises so much brighter, as if set ablaze by the rawness of her surrounding skin.

'You will not cry. You _will not_ cry, Cassiopeia,' she repeated to herself.

She would not break down over it, she did not cry more than a single tear at Alphard's funeral, she had refused to at the sight of so many strangers and she would not do so now. Slowly, she sunk down onto the close toilet lid.

An impatient knock sounded at the door.

She rarely cried as a child. The thought of being scorned by the Malfoys when she had been sorted into Gryffindor had alarmed her, scared her, even, but she had never cried about it. Yet, Draco's words cut deeper than anything she had heard before and Cassy was unsure of why she felt to fragile; she simply cared too much. She frowned. She did care too much. If she could bear the thought of living without them at eleven, then at almost sixteen-years-old she should have no doubts. A strength swelled inside her once more and her mourning was pushed aside in favour of the growing resentment in a distant part of her heart. She cared because they were the only family she had left, her prior strength drawn from knowing Alphard would always have her back. While he was gone, she did have new family. Cassy had Sirius and Tonks, who had proven to care for her more in their short times in her lives than the Malfoys had in a long time. She did not need them. She refused to let herself think she ever needed them.

'Draco,' she whispered between her fingers, still damp from tears. Draco still had a chance. He could be persuaded otherwise, surely, she reasoned. Narcissa and Lucius might hate her because she chose to move against them in the oncoming war, but Draco was not one of Voldemort's followers. He still had a chance to be different. He was repeating what he had been told alone.

Does he really have a chance? Questioned the more rational side of her brain. He had been certain of what he had said, lies or not. It hardly seemed possible to compete with the adoration he held for his parents. Their word was law. It always had been.

Cassy rubbed her face tiredly. She had expected the conversation to be different. She thought he might blurt a sorrowful apology at best, or a vexed demand to know why she had avoided him last year, and perhaps anything in-between, but she had not expected him to accuse her of not caring. She was truly the idiot now. It would have been better to listen to the voice in the back of her mind that demanded she rethink her timing. The other side of her opinion, that waiting would merely be delaying it, which had shrunk back in her mind resurfaced with renewed vigour; there was no point in waiting because the outcome would be the same. Draco was disgusted with her for the lies his parents had fed him. A week of waiting would not change that.

As yet another pair of feet moved away from the door, Cassy breathed out deeply. As much as she may have wanted to, she knew she could not remain locked away forever. She needed something else to think about, she needed to return to her friends and discard what had happened. The hardest part was over, she assured herself firmly, she had struggled for a time all ready without the Malfoys. It was merely reaffirmed that they were gone.

Running her hands over her face one more time, Cassy finally exited the bathroom and made her way back to the end of the train. Her head was held high as she entered the compartment. She did not look at anyone as she sat gracefully, folding her skirt neatly beneath her.

'Are you all right?' asked Harry immediately.

Cassy turned to him and nodded, but he looked utterly unconvinced.

'Hermione said you went somewhere with Malfoy and you've been gone ages,' he said. 'We even looked for you, but we couldn't see you anywhere.'

'I was just speaking to a few people,' she lied as her mind added it was unhealthy to class herself as another person in a conversation.

'He's upset you,' he said with a scowl.

'I am fine,' she said, sharper this time.

'No, you're not,' insisted Harry.

'Harry, she looks fine. Stop looking for a fight,' interjected Hermione.

Harry drew his lips together. His eyes remained focused on Cassy's face as she turned to the window. She wondered how he knew she was upset. She reasoned that perhaps her face was slightly forlorn, or like Hermione had suggested, he was merely looking for an excuse to curse Draco. She did not put much more thought into it, losing herself in the rolling countryside as the scarlet train crossed into Yorkshire.

A sharp breath was sucked in and for a second, Cassy waited for Harry to renew the conversation, but before anyone had a chance to speak the compartment door opened once more. In the reflection on the window a dark-skinned boy stood. One hand lingered on the door while the other was on his hip. Slowly, Cassy turned. His coal eyes were focused on her. He had not even bothered surveying the others.

'A word, Black?' he asked.

Everyone's faces scrunched at his request. Ginny mumbled and Harry looked as if he was biting back a remark, yet Cassy silenced them both when she stood with a nod. Her face eased purposefully and only then did she realise how tense it had been. She did with same with her shoulders, slumping them into what she hoped no longer made her appear defensive. Then, she turned her head coolly towards Blaise Zambini as the door drew to.

'Zambini,' she said in a curt greeting.

'My mother asked that I thank you for the wedding gift you sent. She thought it was very witty. Did you know the plant you sent symbolises both wealth and misfortune?' he asked, his voice deep and his eyes glazed with only mild interest.

'Oh, did it?' she asked in false surprise. 'How terrible.'

'Indeed. Who would want to wish that upon a newly married couple?' he said. 'I want to know why you sent a gift at all.'

It was not a request. Cassy did not bat an eyelid at the bluntness. 'It is customary to send families gifts on such momentous occasions, especially something as grand as a seventh wedding.'

'I did not think you were particularly one for tradition,' he remarked, bored.

'If you have got that impression from Draco, then I assure you he is filled with lies.' A bitter smile twisted her lips into a rare smile of the day. If she had read Zambini correctly, a flash of interest had flickered over his handsome face for just an instant. He was as perceptive as she had imagined and she was glad she had not changed her familial referral to Draco to a curt surname, or they would be the talk of Slytherin before dinner.

'You abide by some traditions then?'

'Some,' agreed Cassy.

He let out a short hum. 'Thank-you again for my mother's present. Here is hoping her new marriage goes... well.'

'The best to her,' said Cassy amicably.

As she stared at his retreating back, Cassy could not help but feel a flicker of warmth in her stomach. The cold sadness ebbed away to make room for a tiny sense of triumph. Zambini did not hold much stock in anyone as a rule, no matter what the blood-type, or the company they held, but he had even less patience for Blood-Traitors and those who went against custom. Cassy supposed she did not fall into the former category, being only half-blood and perhaps that was what had seen the delightful exchange come to life. He did not expect too much from her and now he was pleasantly surprised. If only Cassy could work on making wider connections, she thought she might have a chance at building her very own successful network from inside school out. Suddenly, she felt more confident than ever.

* * *

><p><strong>So almost at Hogwarts now! It took a while, but the year is starting at last. A bit of conflict for Cassy to deal with while trying to build up her own reputation within her peers now. The ball is finally rolling on her power base to set her future, although I might be afraid she has chosen the worst year to try it! <strong>

**Her fights with Draco have finally progressed beyond a squabble, too. It was quite difficult to write, because Cassy is supposed to be a strong character and I think it would undeniably destroy her if her family turned against her. She's trying to hold it together though, but whether that is for better or worse, you will have to read to find out!**

**I appreciate the reviews so far. I am glad so many people have stuck with me.**

**Thanks!**


	9. A war without weapons

C. M. Black: Eyes on an Owl

**Chapter IX: A war without weapons**

Despite the darkness, there was an obvious absence on the platform that the group could not help but notice. There was no great imposing figure with a lantern by his side, a loud voice booming for the tiny first years to gather round and make their way to the age old boats that would take them across the water to the castle. What was there was a smaller, slimmer figure. The lantern was equally as bright yet harder to see some five feet closer to the ground. The first years peered around nervously, grouped together around the scarred woman that had waved them over.

'Where's Hagrid? Why is Grubbly-Plank here?' asked Harry, craning to see farther down the platform.

There was no sight of Hagrid anywhere. Professor Grubbly-Plank brushed away Harry's enquiry as coolly as she had the year before when he had taken leave. There was something ominous in his absence. The last Cassy had heard he had been sent on business for Professor Dumbledore. Surely the plan would have been for him to return by now; the curiosity that would gather amongst staff would be containable, but a nuisance. Cassy doubted many of the students would even care that he was gone, having witnessed the excitement at the change of staff the year before. Yet, the Ministry would notice. The Ministry would be watching and Professor Dumbledore must have known that, so it still left Cassy with the hanging question of where their half-giant friend had vanished to if he was yet to return.

Harry was visibly disgruntled as they walked towards the carriages. Always, since their first year, he had been keen on visiting Hagrid in the first weeks of school to catch up on the time missed in their summer apart. It was most likely one of the things he had been looking forward to most about returning, speculated Cassy as she stared at the back of his head. Seeing a friend was the small twinkling of light in what otherwise promised to be a sullen and tedious year of staring and taunting of lies and death. Hagrid always had something cheerful to say. Even if he was often brash with his words, Cassy found it had helped a lot through her time at Hogwarts.

Cassy sighed. She halted suddenly, narrowly missing collision with Harry's back. He was unmoving, staring, his lips partly opened and his eyes a fraction wider than they should have been. Curiously, Cassy followed his gaze. Black, leathery skin and milky eyes gazed back at her. The long face was thrown side to side as giant hooves beat the ground impatiently.

'What is that?' breathed Harry.

'What is what?' asked Ginny, climbing into the nearest carriage.

'That horse-thing,' he said, nodding.

The Thestral huffed.

'These carriages pull themselves, Harry,' said Hermione, climbing in beside Ginny.

'No, they don't. That's a Thestral,' explained Neville. He stepped past Cassy and Harry as the other two girls turned in surprise.

'You can see them?' asked Harry to Neville.

'There are four of us here who can see them, I believe,' said Cassy. She moved from behind him and took a seat closest to the Thestral. Gingerly, she reached over and patted its back, the skin smooth but tough beneath her soft fingers. She paid no attention to the heavy silence that developed behind her.

'Cassy,' said Neville softly. 'When I mentioned to you about them in first-year, you couldn't see them.'

Cassy did not respond. She did not see what there was to clarify. It was obvious what had happened. It would take less than a second for them to reassess what they had wrongly believe to have happened that evening; she had not seen Alphard after his death, she had clung to him during it.

The carriage rocked gently as Harry finally climbed on board. No one spoke again until they reached the castle. Cassy spared the briefest of thoughts as to what they wondered, but she found she did not care. They had probably moved on to how Neville and Luna had been able to see Thestrals by the time the wheels slowed to a halt. Even without turning, she could clearly see Harry avoiding looking at her.

Unsurprisingly, Hagrid was not in the hall either. He was not seated at the long teachers table. His seat was empty, inevitably left spare for Professor Grubbly-Plank. More curiously, however, a few seats closer to the Headmaster sat a woman in pink. Her hair was tightly curled and mousy brown, a pink bow fixed on the left-hand side. Her face was large and her mouth reaching from almost side to side. Wide and short, she was dwarfed next to the long, tall stature of Professor McGonagall on her left.

'That's the woman from my trial,' murmured Harry as they took their seats at the Gryffindor table.

'She hates you then,' whispered back Cassy.

There was not even a noise of resignation. Harry merely nodded and said, 'If she is going to teach Defence then I can kiss my OWLs goodbye. She'll fail me as much as Snape.'

The other students did not fail to notice the pink mass at the staff table either. There were many curious stares and loud whispers of discussion. The woman, of whom Harry had forgotten to name, sat with a pleasant smile on her face the entire time, looking down at each child as if there was nothing more she loved in the world than their smiling, youthful faces. She almost appeared kind, too soft, too caring to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but Cassy was well aware otherwise. Harry had informed her of every detail of his trial. The blunt words in her honey-sweet tone, the sugary smiles that hid and deceived the real message on her tongue. She did not believe Harry. It made even a member of staff the opposition, their backing was being punctured by her very presence.

Professor Dumbledore rose from his chair and extended his hands widely in front of him. Everyone fell into silence, some turned expectantly to the grand closed doors. He took his place again and nodded to Professor McGonagall, who strode quickly down the aisle between the tables and slipped out of the doors. A small echo of the new students' conversations sounded before the door was shut again and the hall was left silent. Soon after, they opened once more and Professor McGonagall came striding in with a gaggle of nervous and curious children.

The stall was all ready present with the Sorting Hat upon it. It groaned, opening a small fold in the fabric that looked suspiciously like a mouth. With a small cough, it began yet another welcoming song to introduce itself.

_In times of old, when I was new,  
>And Hogwarts barely started,<br>The founders of our noble school  
>Thought never to be parted.<br>United by a common goal,  
>They had the self-same yearning<br>To make the world's best magic school  
>And pass along their learning.<br>"Together we will build and teach"  
>The four good friends decided.<br>And never did they dream that they  
>Might someday be divided.<br>For were there such friends anywhere  
>As Slytherin and Gryffindor?<br>Unless it was the second pair  
>Unless it was the second pair<br>Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,  
>So how could it have gone so wrong?<br>How could such friendships fail?  
>Why, I was there, so I can tell<br>The whole sad, sorry tale.  
>Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those<br>Whose ancestry's purest."  
>Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose<br>Intelligence is surest"  
>Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those<br>With brave deeds to their name."  
>Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot<br>And treat them just the same."  
>These differences caused little strife<br>When first they came to light.  
>For each of the four founders had<em>  
><em>A house in which they might<em>  
><em>Take only those they wanted, so,<em>  
><em>For instance, Slytherin<em>  
><em>Took only pure-blood wizards<em>  
><em>Of great cunning just like him.<em>  
><em>And only those of sharpest mind<em>  
><em>Were taught by Ravenclaw<em>  
><em>While the bravest and the boldest<em>  
><em>Went to daring Gryffindor.<em>  
><em>Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest<em>  
><em>and taught them all she knew,<em>  
><em>Thus, the Houses and their founders<em>  
><em>Maintained friendships firm and true.<em>

_So Hogwarts worked in harmony_  
><em>for several happy years,<em>  
><em>but then discord crept among us<em>  
><em>feeding on our faults and fears.<em>

_The Houses that, like pillars four_  
><em>had once held up our school<em>  
><em>now turned upon each other and<em>  
><em>divided, sought to rule.<em>  
><em>And for a while it seemed the school<em>  
><em>must meet an early end.<em>  
><em>what with duelling and with fighting<em>  
><em>and the clash of friend on friend.<em>  
><em>And at last there came a morning<em>  
><em>when old Slytherin departed<em>  
><em>and though the fighting then died out<em>  
><em>he left us quite downhearted.<em>  
><em>And never since the founders four<em>  
><em>were whittled down to three<em>  
><em>have the Houses been united<em>  
><em>as they once were meant to be.<em>

_And now the Sorting Hat is here_  
><em>and you all know the score:<em>  
><em>I sort you into Houses<em>  
><em>because that is what I'm for.<em>  
><em>But this year I'll go further,<em>  
><em>listen closely to my song:<em>  
><em>though condemned I am to split you<em>  
><em>still I worry that it's wrong,<em>  
><em>though I must fulfil my duty<em>  
><em>and must quarter every year<em>  
><em>still I wonder whether sorting<em>  
><em>may not bring the end I fear.<em>  
><em>Oh, know the perils, read the signs,<em>  
><em>the warning history shows,<em>  
><em>for our Hogwarts is in danger<em>  
><em>from external, deadly foes<em>  
><em>and we must unite inside her<em>  
><em>or we'll crumble from within<em>  
><em>I have told you, I have warned you...<em>  
><em>let the Sorting now begin.<em>

There was a speckled round of applause. Cassy clapped slowly, her eyebrows dipped down into a thoughtful frown. It was longer than the previous songs, the message was sombre and warning, not at all like the joyful introduction she had had in her first year. The first-years glanced around nervously at one another as the clapping quickly silenced. Danger, crumbling, disorder and creeping faults and fears, none of it set an encouraging tone and to those in doubt of Voldemort's return it merely sounded like nonsense. To those who believed, it was a warning, a warning for them to unite early to prevent disaster. Cassy could have laughed. The hat was going to change no one's minds.

'Has the hat ever given a warning before?' whispered Hermione as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat to begin the sorting.

'Oh, yes,' came a voice from beside them. The group turned to see Sir Nicholas floating midway through the Gryffindor table. 'Its messages are always the same, filled with co-operation and unity. It feels honour bound to warn the school of great dangers approaching.'

'Shame it included Slytherin in that. No one can get along with them,' mumbled Ron.

Sir Nicholas turned to him with a frown and Harry looked past Cassy's shoulder at the next table. As his expression slowly grew into a sneer, she knew he had most likely locked eyes with Draco.

As names began to be reeled out one after another, Cassy turned her attention to the current students. Slowly, her head barely turning as she inspected them, she drank in every stare and tense muscle on those surrounding them. Each time someone peered at Harry, she mentally logged their emotion – fear, confusion, curiosity, admiration, there were many different emotions swilling through Gryffindor. Hufflepuff on the table across seemed calmer when she caught them looking, but there was no definite support there either. Ravenclaw sat behind her, too far away for anyone to bother passing a glance at Harry. Slytherin was bypassed entirely.

There was no grand conclusion of support from anywhere. The tale of Voldemort's return was a lot for anyone to take in and no house was entirely uniform in anything they did. Cassy vaguely listened as Professor Dumbledore spoke his timely welcomes, her mind was focused on the other staff members and whom seemed to be avoiding their end of the table, or those looking too much. Professor McGonagall kept her eyes forward, while Professor Flitwick glanced over to them twice before catching Cassy's eye and smiling at her; he believed Harry then. The woman in pink did not look towards Harry at all, smiling politely at the back of Professor Dumbledore's sparkling hat the whole time.

When the silver platters filled with freshly cooked food from the kitchens below, Cassy turned back to the table.

'What were you looking at?' asked Harry, as soon as the loud, echoing chatter erupted.

'I was watching for those watching you,' she replied lowly.

Harry craned his neck and rotated in his seat as he frowned.

Cassy piled several Yorkshire puddings onto her plate. 'There are some who are believing and some who are more hostile, yet a decent amount who I could only see curiosity.'

'If they are going to be stupid and believe I'm a liar then they are in for a nasty shock,' he spat.

'You could at least try to concentrate on the positive parts of what I said,' said Cassy flatly and Harry sighed deeply, slowly squashing his peas into a watery paste.

'Yeah, I should just be happy that some people do believe me... but really - '

'_Harry_,' said Cassy imploringly. She jerked her head to where several younger students had inclined their heads to listen at his loud outburst before.

'I... I don't really care,' he said weakly, with a shrug.

Cassy snorted and Hermione sighed beside her.

'Just ignore them, Harry. People will think what they think until proven otherwise, it is just how they are,' said Hermione simply.

'Or until the novelty of being angry wears off. Then they will actually begin to think for themselves, they will most likely come around. Take third-year, for example, everyone avoided me because my father was publicised as a mass murderer, but people began to act natural again once the excitement of him bursting in and killing them wore off,' offered Cassy.

The younger students suddenly turned away, grimacing at the revelation of who they had been eavesdropping on. Noticing, Cassy let a very low, satisfied chuckle that had Harry laughing into his drink and Neville rolling his eyes with a grin of his own.

'Honestly,' he said.

The meal continued in relative ease. Hermione had become irate with Ron shortly after for mentioning deducting all the points from Slytherin by tomorrow lunch; Neville and Ginny tried to calm her down, but the more glazed Ron's eyes became as she spoke the hotter her temper became. Harry watched the two squabble with mild interest.

'Do you think we'll hear anything from our _friends_ while we're here?' he asked, leaning a faction closer across the table.

'We were hard pressed to get information at the house, let alone here,' muttered Cassy. 'We need a better way of disguising what we are talking about.'

Harry hummed. 'How about we call it Grimmy, then it sounds like a person.'

'Like Death, perhaps,' said Cassy with her eyebrows raised, 'but yes, Grimmy it is.'

'Do you two plan on leaving any treacle tart for anyone else?' asked Ginny loudly from beside them.

Both Cassy and Harry looked down at the circular dish between them. It had less than a quarter remaining. The longer they had been talking, the more of the tart they had eaten. Harry shrugged and said, 'Obviously not. It's ours.'

Completely disregarding what he had said, Ginny leant across and snatched the dish from between them before either could mock grumble.

There was a clinking from the front of the hall. The food vanished from their plates and their cutlery was left empty in the air. Faintly, as the chatter died down, a short groan was heard. Cassy and Harry grinned at one another; Ginny had not got to eat any of the tart she had stolen.

'Good evening, new and old. We are once again brought together to begin another year at Hogwarts. I have a few announcements to make, the first being the return on Professor Grubbly-Plank and the appointment of our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Umbridge,' called Professor Dumbledore loudly.

A scattered applause echoed through the hall. No one expected her to last long and no one particularly cared for her first impression either. Quietly, murmurs circulated from some of the older students.

The name rang through Cassy's ears. It rang and rang, echoing through her brain like an old song. She knew it. She had heard it before, she was certain. Yet, if she had, it raised the question as to why someone with a high enough profile within the Ministry would attend Harry's trial. Surely the ranks did not all fall in for a simple expulsion; then again, it was Harry Potter and the accusation of Dementors in a Muggle town was hardly something that could not be investigated, she reasoned. Yet, she could simply not place the name.

'Next, I would like to remind you that Quidditch try-outs are to be later this month,' said Professor Dumbledore. He did not bat an eyelid as Professor Umbridge made a small, high noise, caught somewhere between a giggle and a cough. 'Captains are to pick the exact date, but I have been advised by the Heads of Houses to suggest it be no later than October seventh.'

Professor Umbridge coughed again. Slowly, wearing a too-polite smile for what anyone else would have done, Professor Dumbledore turned to her. 'Yes, Professor Umbridge?'

'I have a few things to say, if you will, Headmaster,' she said brightly, and stood, almost appearing to lose height as she did. There was no sign of an agreement as she peered from face to face and giggled to herself, but Professor Dumbledore intertwined his hands and watched patiently none-the-less.

Professor Umbridge smiled, her wide mouth stretching side to side. From the distance, Cassy might have been fooled into thinking her brown eyes were warm and full of sentiment; she knew better though. They merely appeared so because of her cheeks rolling to meet them in way of her giddy, false smile. Cassy finally understood where she knew the woman from; she was the Senior Under-secretary of the Ministry. A vile woman whom even the purest of Wizards disliked. She was tolerated due to her position, but beyond the Minister himself, Cassy did not know a single person who sought to spend time in her company. Even Lucius loathed her. She got in the way of his own influence too much to be properly civil company.

The Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts and had no intention of being subtle.

Oh, Harry, thought Cassy as she tucked her chin into her palm, you have made such a mess.

'Thank-you for the welcome, Professor,' she cooed. 'It is wonderful to be back in Hogwarts and to see so many bright faces looking back. I am sure we will all be very good friends.' Her voice was high and her words slow, as if speaking to a neighbour's misbehaving, repugnant child.

Cassy looked eyes with Harry, he grimaced at her. He hated her, everything about her from the tightened lower lids and elongated corners of his mouth. Neville had his eyebrows raised and Hermione looked thoughtful; Ginny appeared repulsed.

'The Ministry has always taken the education of young witches and wizards very seriously,' she said, smiling with bright eyes as if becoming tearful at the notion. 'Rare gifts must be guided and nurtured and it is the responsibility of the staff to do so. Each headmaster has brought something different to the school, lest we have stagnation, but progress for the sake of progress must be discouraged. What does not add to society must be eradicated. Certain traditions require no tampering, if they are well tried and tested then it is best we leave them be. We must have a balance between old and new...'

It sounded almost absurd that the Ministry intended to remove aspects of Hogwarts it did not approve of; absurd, but not illegal, the school was, after all, under the control of the Government. Cassy huffed, almost laughing, and gained the attention of her friends surrounding her. Hermione pursed her lips, not turning, but Cassy knew she had come to the same conclusion.

Focusing more on older wizarding traditions would integrate the Muggle-Borns better, it almost sounded positive and undoubtedly would have if exiting someone else's mouth. Some habits must be recognised as pointless and Cassy had no desire for the year of shearing to occur during her OWL examinations.

'...Pruning what ought to be prohibited,' finished Professor Umbridge, still smiling sweetly.

Cassy's eyes flinched minutely in alarm.

'Thank-you, Professor Umbridge. Now, off to bed with all of you,' said Professor Dumbledore curtly, splaying out his arms as if to usher them away from Professor Umbridge behind him.

Noise erupted and half the hall was on their feet before he had even finished his sentence. Cassy leant over the table quickly, locking eyes with Hermione, whose mouth had become tense and thinly pressed.

'She is not going to let us practise advanced spells in Defence,' said Cassy immediately.

Hermione shook her head. 'They're in the exam, she has to.'

'If the Ministry thinks there is going to be no war, then I think duelling falls under "what must be prohibited". The threat they fear most is an uprising, is it not?' continued Cassy.

Harry, Neville, and Ginny were looking between the two with varying looks of curious anger. Harry was scowling all ready, his mouth partly open, ready to demand to know what they meant, but neither girl looked at him. They stared at one another severely. The moment Hermione's eyes darted towards the lingering first-years, Cassy knew she had got through. There was simply no way Umbridge was doing to be a productive teacher. She was not like Remus, who taught them what he thought they were ready to know, or like Barty Crouch Jr, whose unorthodox methods had taught them much last year in the way of survival. Professor Umbridge did not wish for them to advance for the sake of advancement; she did not wish to see them prevail at all.

'There will be mayhem. The students will never allow it, even if the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts,' said Hermione with a faint shake of her head. Her brown-eyes lingered on Cassy for a moment, silently stating the conversation would continue later, when Lavender and Pavarti were asleep like they held most of their conversations.

'Where did you get that from?' asked Neville, eyebrows knitted down in concern.

'Weren't you listening at all?' asked Hermione. 'Anyway, first-years, follow me! Ron, get over here.'

'Oy, Midgets!'

'Ron!'

'I zoned out when she began talking in circles,' admitted Neville sheepishly.

'So did I,' agreed Harry. 'So, what did you two mean about Defence?'

'Given what she said about pruning practises and preventing progression that does not need to be made, I would wager that she is not going to teach her class quite the way we need it to be,' said Cassy lowly.

She, Harry, Neville, and Ginny, pushed their way through the crowds and up the tall marble staircases towards the Gryffindor Tower. There was much discussion echoing through the halls, but not many at all seemed to be discussing Professor Umbridge. Most seemed to have lost interest shortly after she began like Harry and Neville, and even Ginny was struggling to recall exactly what had been said.

'Even if she doesn't want to teach us, she has to at least teach us what's in the syllabus though,' offered Ginny reassuringly.

Cassy pursed her lips. 'Who do you think writes the syllabus?' Everyone paled slightly and Cassy sighed. 'I am just speculating, of course. She might be fine, but she is certainly here to keep an eye on the school and make sure your story, Harry, is not being encouraged. Otherwise, they would not have sent someone so high within the Ministry to teach.'

'Bloody wonderful,' muttered Harry. 'I'm going to bed. Goodnight.'

He stomped up to his dormitory with Neville following closely behind, waving good-bye. Ginny flashed her eyebrows in a silent declaration of how poorly that revelation had gone, before dismissing herself to her dormitory too.

Not even bothering to sigh, because she had expected nothing less, Cassy followed their lead and planned her acquaintance with her own bed. First-years had begun piling in, spilling out across the room in their eagerness to explore and inspect. Their voices were high and excited, barely contained in the half-hearted whispers. Ron was caught somewhere in the centre, physically moving the children out of the way, while Hermione seemed to be in a hushed conversation with a particularly anguished looking girl with blonde pigtails.

When Cassy shut the dormitory door behind her, Lavender and Pavarti immediately fell silent. Their eyes were wide for a moment, before they both smiled and greeted her too warmly for their distant companionship.

'Evening,' said Cassy civilly. Her eyebrows were lowered only a fraction, but it was all that was needed to let them know of her suspicion.

'How was your summer?' asked Lavender cheerfully, her legs crossed on Pavarti's bed and clothed in stripy pyjamas.

'Agreeable,' she said blandly. 'Your own?'

'Oh, it was nice.'

Nothing more was said, but Cassy could hear the faint sounds of their whispers through the bathroom door as she changed into her own nightclothes. Once again, she heard the door open and the sounds stopped. Footsteps crossed the room and the chatter did not continue. Cassy rolled her eyes at the obviousness of her two housemates, they did not even think to create a fake discussion to hide themselves. When she exited the bathroom, Lavender was back on her own bed and the two sat silently, occasionally glancing at one another.

'If you have something to say, just do it,' said Cassy as she folded her uniform back into her trunk.

Lavender jumped slightly, but leant forward, gripping her ankles with her hands and whispered loudly, as if expecting someone to burst in if overheard. 'About Harry.'

Cassy stared at her expectantly and Hermione, who had joined not long ago, turned away from her own trunk to stare over her shoulder. Lavender said nothing more though and simply continued to watch them both.

'What about him?' asked Hermione after a second.

'His story,' she said. 'What do you think?'

'What do you think?' countered Cassy.

Lavender and Pavarti glanced at each other and Lavender bit her lip.

'My sister isn't convinced,' admitted Pavarti, 'and my parents are unsure, but I think he is probably telling the truth.'

'I just don't see why the Ministry would not be supporting him if he was, you know. It's not like they'd just be able to ignore it,' added Lavender.

Cassy thought she heard Hermione snort, but maintained her flat expression as she regarded Lavender and Pavarti coolly. 'I know that Harry is not the type of person who would bring back a corpse of another student for attention, nor harm himself to gain popularity.' While her voice was low and level, she very nearly hissed 'corpse', the sound becoming long and the 'c' harsh on her tongue. Her expression did not change, but theirs did.

'I don't really like to read the Daily Prophet and neither do my parents. They say it's a load of rubbish,' said Pavarti more confidently.

Lavender shifted. 'I don't see how a dead man could come back to life though.'

'Harry's not lying,' snapped Hermione, standing with her pyjamas bundled in her arms. 'If you don't think the greatest Dark Wizard of all time would be able to cheat death, then you need to think again. Of everything he has done, I hardly find this the least believable.' She had her eyebrows raised pointedly, before striding across the room and locking herself in the bathroom.

Lavender said nothing more for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>Lavender was not the only one who appeared to be having difficulties believing Voldemort had returned. As soon as Cassy and Hermione had emerged from the girls' staircase the next morning, Harry was out of the armchair and across the room to the portrait hole before they had even managed to wish him a good-morning. Neville waved them to follow quickly and as they all fell into step, Harry burst into an angry monologue that no one dared interrupt.<p>

Seamus did not believe him. His mother did not believe him, choosing to agree with the deluded image of him that the _Daily Prophet _had conjured that summer. He had asked for Harry to recount what had happened that evening, something Harry struggled to do for anyone, and he could not for Seamus. Instead, he had snapped, telling him he could go and believe the _Daily Prophet_ in his own time.

Cassy narrowed her eyes. 'Did you insult his mother?'

Harry cringed.

'Harry, that was your chance to persuade him otherwise. Now he will probably not believe you on principal,' she scolded.

'What was I supposed to do? Just ignore it?' he snapped.

'Yes!' implored Cassy as though it was obvious. 'It would have been more beneficial if you had kept your head together and treated him civilly to win him over.'

Harry sighed deeply. 'Why can't you just follow me round and tell me what to say? My life would be easier that way.'

Cassy was almost flattered and if it was not for the disgruntled tone in which he had spoken, she might have smiled. However, she said, 'You need to work on what you say. If you can begin to change people's minds here, then their families will hopefully come around and it will be doing the Order a massive favour.'

'Right,' said Harry dully.

'Look,' said Cassy with a sigh, 'It is normal to be angry about it, but - '

'It's fine. I'll just be more enthusiastic to those who think I am an attention-seeker,' interrupted Harry, his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets.

Cassy let out a frustrated growl and turned her head. Ignoring him, Cassy listened to Hermione and Ron bicker some way behind. Fred and George had posted a notice on the Gryffindor board, stating they wanted volunteers to help test their products; Hermione wanted Ron to take action, but Ron had just laughed until he realised she was, in fact, very serious, and the pair had dissolved into an argument.

'I don't care if it's "virtually painless" they can't test things on first-years!' said Hermione, shrilly.

'Look, I am not going to be the one to tell them they can't, because who do you think they will test them on next? Me, that's who,' said Ron, his hands thrown up in defence.

'Then I'll tell them,' said Hermione.

'Good. Go for it,' said Ron.

Hermione strode past Cassy, Harry, and Neville, her nose pointed high as she entered the Great Hall with a determined purpose.

'...You're not serious, are you? You're mad!' called Ron after a second, hurrying by too to catch her before she spotted the twin at the far end of the table.

'Well, the Prefects are going to be interesting this year,' said Neville, falsely bright.

Both Cassy and Harry let out a flat, disinterested hum and took seats on opposite sides of Ginny, leaving Neville next to Luna on the other side. People were no longer bothering to pretend not to be interested in Harry. They stared openly up and down the table, from across the hall and back, and even the Slytherins were turning in their seats to inspect.

'Harry, you're making it rain, mate,' said Ron as he passed, finally having steered Hermione back around.

The charmed sky above them was dark and thunderous, although the clouds above everyone else remained white and fluffy, the barest rays of sun filtering through their wispy edges. The rain began to ease as Harry stared up at it consciously.

As Hermione took a seat on Luna's other side, the conversation fell into place and Cassy and Harry's tenseness began to waver. Timetables were handed out and everyone compared their hours free with one another; Ron could be heard mourning the lower numbers of free periods all ready further down the table. Dean and Seamus nodded along with him, while Ginny grinned, having the luxury of fourth-year relaxation.

Angelina Johnson, the new Captain of the Quidditch Team following Wood's departure two years ago, approached with her chest puffed out and the shining badge fixed where all could see. Harry congratulated her enthusiastically and she instructed him to meet the team on the pitch on Friday at five for Keeper try-outs. Harry nodded and waved, watching her go as he curiously considered who might make the team.

'At least you made the team without question,' said Neville, mopping up the baked bean juice with his toast.

'Of course he did,' said Ginny brightly. 'There wouldn't be much of a team without Harry!'

He grinned back at her and his foul mood finally seemed to begin to lift. The rest of breakfast was spent in lively chatter that had been sorely absent in their long train journey the day before. Eventually, the owls swooped down with the post. Two large reels of paper were deposited in front of both Cassy and Hermione, black print covering side to side. Lowly, Harry grumbled that the pair were still reading the _Daily Prophet_, but they both brushed him off with the need to know before they were told by an unsavoury source, most likely Draco pretending to be deranged; Cassy was rather looking forward to seeing Harry finally snap at him and unleash the pent up rage he had built towards the other boy for the last four years. She certainly had no intention of preventing it.

Cassy cast a sideways glance at the Slytherin table, only to see Astoria hovering not too far away, as if just having stood herself. She smiled at Cassy and ran a hand through her straightened blonde hair. Her head jerked towards the door.

'Excuse me,' said Cassy, stuffing the paper towards Harry, who had been reading over her shoulder despite himself. She smiled warmly at Astoria as the two left the hall, only acquiring a few disturbed stares along the way. The moment their feet stopped moving, Astoria rounded on her, gripping the tops of Cassy's arms tightly.

'How are you?' she burst. 'I wanted to find you on the train, but Daphne insisted that I sat with her to make sure I did not get up to anything unsavoury. My parents are on high alert now and you will not answer any of my questions!'

'Your parents believe Harry too, then?' asked Cassy, not particularly surprised. The Greengrass family kept up with affairs and like any other Pure-blooded socialites, they would hear all about Voldemort's great return somewhere down the line.

'Of course,' said Astoria, frowning. 'My parents were never Death Eaters, but they knew a fair bit about the Dark Lord, seeing as they were out of school for the years leading to the real climax of it all. They supported quite a few of his policies too, so my summer was interesting. Anyway, I want to know how your summer was. You were ever so evasive and I want to know why.'

Somehow Cassy could not justify stating she had been hiding in the headquarters of a secret order set to destroy the Dark Lord's second rising, she could imagine Astoria's face if she did though and while it would undoubtedly be hilarious, Astoria was not one to shrug it off as a joke. She would dig and dig until she either got what she wanted or she would ask her father to get it for her and in that case Cassy would be in serious trouble when word got back around to Tonks. Instead Cassy frowned slightly and went with the second, although no less truthful reply.

'I was staying with my new guardian and we had many things to sort through. I was... preoccupied.'

Astoria winced. 'Right. Sorry.'

'What black magic has made a Greengrass apologise? Oh my,' came a drawling voice from nearby.

Both girls turned to see Stephen wandering towards them, his hands charmingly in his pockets. They greeted him simultaneously and he nodded back.

'I thought I saw you two making a quick escape,' he said.

'I wanted to ask Cassy about her terrible letter replies,' admitted Astoria.

'Ah, yes. Writing a page and getting half of one back,' he said in a false tone of fondness.

'Half? I got a third at best. I see who your favourite is,' said Astoria, crossing her arms.

Cassy rolled her eyes as Stephen and Astoria laughed. 'I was not that bad. Congratulations on your twelve Outstanding OWLs, by the way. Very impressive.'

'Thanks. You're going to have the fight of your life this year. It's not as easy as it sounds,' he said.

'I will work as much as required to match you and ensure my victory over Hermione,' said Cassy easily, waving her hand dismissively.

'Am I a rival now?' asked Stephen cheekily.

'I need to be perfect to do what I want to do,' she said.

'And what is that exactly?' asked Astoria curiously.

'None of your concern. Actually, I have something important to ask.' Cassy's voice suddenly dipped and she leant in closer to the pair of them and they followed suit. 'What is the consensus of Voldemort in your houses?'

Stephen flinched slightly at the name and Astoria merely blinked in surprise.

'It is split,' admitted Stephen.

'I do not know of anyone who does not believe, although I am willing to wager that none of them will admit it,' offered Astoria.

'Is this about Potter?' asked Stephen.

The three of them turned at the same time to see Harry, Neville, and Hermione emerge from the Great Hall, most likely on their way to History of Magic. They were peering at the stationary students, then Harry spotted Cassy and scowled suddenly as his eyes took in the two people beside her. Cassy frowned.

'He's in a pleasant mood,' muttered Stephen.

'Ignore him. He has been in a foul mood all morning,' assured Cassy.

He had cheered up when I left him, she thought to herself, I wonder what happened.

Quickly, as Harry stared her two friends down, Cassy bid good-day to Stephen and Astoria and strode over to Harry, Neville, and Hermione as if she had not noticed the irritation radiating from the former at all. She adjusted the bag strap on her shoulder and looked at Neville and Hermione expectantly.

'History, then?'

Before either of them could comment, Harry cut in, 'What were you talking about?'

The phrase "none of your business" was on the tip of Cassy's tongue, before she turned and began the long journey up to their classroom. She replied with a shortened truth instead. 'I was congratulating Stephen on his OWL results, twelve Os is impressive.' Her voice suddenly lowered and she smirked. 'I was thinking about asking him to tutor me, actually. I would not mind the advantage.'

'That's not fair,' said Hermione indignantly and Cassy turned her head away as her smirk grew wider. 'Besides, he needs to concentrate on his own NEWTs.'

'Is it a problem?' asked Cassy. She swung her head round to show her teasing grin when Hermione sniffed.

'I will still get better grades if it kills me,' she said, full of confidence.

Cassy and Neville laughed. Behind them, there was a distinct lack of amusement. Cassy glanced around to see if Harry was still there, having lagged behind the whole way and while he was, his face was colder than before and his jaw was set tensely. Cassy frowned again.

'Has something happened?' she whispered.

Neville appeared perplexed, but Hermione was frowning thoughtfully. She took a few seconds to finally shake her head and shrug.

'I don't think he likes Goodridge too much. He is Shandy's friend, after all,' whispered Hermione.

'He's not going to cause trouble. We are friends,' muttered Cassy in return.

When Hermione shrugged again, Cassy chose not to think about it anymore. Harry was being delicate that morning anyway and if he chose to be angry because of Stephen's appearance in the hall then Cassy would leave him to it.

The four of them drew to a halt outside of their History of Magic classroom. They were the first there. Silence filled the halls, pierced only by the occasional bird calls or swaying of the late summer leaves. No one had anything to say, their conversation forced dry only two hours into their first day.

Nor did they talk through the lesson. Lavender and Pavarti behind them never ceased, but Cassy took notes diligently as Professor Binns droned on through his monotonous tale. There was not much sense of relief when the bell rang. Not for the first time, Cassy thought she might have preferred to spend another hour in silence.

'Hello, Harry,' came a sugary voice from behind the four as they moved on to Potions. Everyone turned to see Chang smiling shyly, focused on Harry. She glanced at Cassy. 'I see you found your friend, then.'

'Oh, yeah. She tends to come back by herself,' said Harry, emitting an awkward laugh as he ruffled his hair.

Chang laughed.

Cassy let out a long, low hum from deep within her throat. She was not a dog to be called upon whenever Harry called for it, nor Chang, for that matter. With half-lidded eyes, she said, 'Excuse me… _again._'

Effortlessly, and with little patience, Cassy weaved in-between the forthcoming students and those to slow, those who meandered without care; those happy to have returned.

'Cassy, wait up,' called Neville.

Cassy did not slow, but Neville caught up, jogging and apologising as he bumped shoulders with every other person in the hall, lacking Cassy's slight frame and easy grace.

'Hey, class is with Snape, remember. There's no need to rush,' he huffed as he fell into step beside her.

'I am in a hurry to leave Harry behind. I feel as though I have missed something. He was fine earlier. Now the only thing that makes him smile is Chang,' commented Cassy.

Neville shrugged, but the motion was very nearly lost amongst the current motion of his fast swinging arms at his side. 'I don't know anything about that, but this morning was weird, I will give you that. Although, I think you might be a bit more mad about Cho being so keen suddenly - '

'Asked Luna on a date, have you?' snapped Cassy and she watched with satisfaction as Neville coloured rapidly from his neck to his hairline. He fumbled for a moment and then fell silent. He stared at his feet and his hands stopped swinging so eagerly. Instead, they rose to grip the strap of his bag, his fingers fiddled with the golden clasp.

Cassy sighed. 'Neville, I am sorry. I am just...' She could not think of what she felt. She was just angry all the time today, furious, vexed, cross, seething; even as she smiled there was an underlying rage, waiting to jump and to snap and Harry had become very good at pushing the molten heat to the surface of her tongue in the last few days. She hated Harry being angry with her, but she hated the uncertain look on Neville's face more.

' 'S'kay,' he mumbled and Cassy's eyebrows arched upwards in the centre.

'Really, that was unfair. I will make it up - ' she began, yet her words fell short as a bush of brown hair popped into view over the shoulders of the short first years that had piled out of Transfiguration.

'You two walked quick!' said Hermione as she adjusted her shoulder strap. 'Are you all right Neville?'

'Oh, yeah. I was just thinking,' he covered. His face twisted into a grimace. 'It's just, this years supposed to be difficult, right? So imagine how Potions will be. Snape's going to through me out for sure.'

'He can't do that,' assured Hermione warmly. 'Just sit beside me and I'll make sure you don't fail.'

There were only seconds to spare when Harry dashed into the classroom. Panting, he peered around, noting Neville and Hermione near the back, far enough out of sight that Hermione would be able to offer vague instructions if Neville were to become off-course, while Cassy sat in front with an open seat beside her. He slumped down into it, passing her an awkward smile. He said nothing else.

A brief flicker of panic rose in Cassy's stomach. Perhaps the reason he was being so peculiar with her was because he had figured out her feelings at long last.

Once class was in session, Cassy did not have time to dwell on such thoughts. It had given way to a silent shock, an amazement for the boy beside her. For once, Harry was taking notes from not only the board, but from what Professor Snape dictated as well. His page was full and comprehensive. His potion lacked faults. He measured carefully and she could read the numbers his lips soundlessly formed with each stir. It was not perfect, a shade too light to be magnificent, but it was astounding all the same. Harry had actually put effort into the class for the first time and he would surely be rewarded. Even Professor Snape could not help but be surprised by the good work.

Despite wracking her brain for reasons, Cassy could not fathom where this new found effort had come from.

Eager to see if this new found dedication followed into any other class, Cassy took a seat beside Harry in Defence Against the Dark Arts after lunch. The class could not be any more alarming than Professor Moody's had been, nor any more boring that Professor Lockhart's; Cassy did not even venture to think it could be more useful or enjoyable than Remus' had been. She was all ready suspecting the worst.

The worst had been confirmed only moments after Professor Umbridge had entered.

'Good morning, class,' she said sweetly.

There was a scattered reply of 'Morning, Professor.'

Professor Umbridge tutted. 'I said, Good morning, class.'

Everyone peered at one another with varying expressions of amusement, disbelief, and horror. When she cleared her throat, the Gryffindors broke out into a monotonous, reluctant chorus of greetings that seemed to pacify her. Her back was soon turned to the board, where she wrote three simple aims. They contained no magic, or practice, but simple reading, to understand the theory of the subject and the legality of use. It was a lesson Cassy would imagine the Ministry of Magic laughing while writing, proud of themselves for their ingenious _pruning_ of dangerous practices. Professor Umbridge then turned to her desk and sat behind it, her pink court shoes barely touching the stone floor beneath them.

'Right, wands away. You won't be needing those,' she said, her voice high and bright. 'I want you all to read paragraph one from your text book _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbery Slinkhard and we will ask questions at the end. Has everyone got their copy? I expect either "Yes, Professor", or "No, Professor". None of this mumbling, understand?'

'Yes, Professor,' the class replied reluctantly.

'Good,' said Professor Umbridge. 'Now, off you go.'

Harry was all ready frowning as he pulled his text towards him. Cassy did the same with hers, before she flicked it to page five, Chapter One:

_Magical Defensive Theory outlines the most basic and most important rules of Defensive magic. Primarily, one must regard counter-curses and spells as nothing more than a last resort. They are not to be used for amusement, nor by children in any circumstances. Only adult practising witches or wizards are condoned to use defensive magic due to the complex theories behind it and the dangers that come with casting._

Cassy mentally snorted. The book read as if aimed at children, patronising and useless. She doubted even first-years would regard the text as anything above fuel for the common room fire. The page continued in the same fashion and steadily became increasingly dull as the theory began to take hold.

Beside her, Harry was absently staring around the room, inspecting the other students in an effort to avoid reading it himself. On the table across, Ron was twisting his quill in his hands, his eyes never moving, while Dean and Seamus had given up and had turned their notes into a round of noughts and crosses.

Shaking her head, Cassy tried in vain to return to the textbook, but it was nothing she did not all ready know, or at least could be deduced by common sense. Her eyes began to drift again.

On her other side, Neville was slowly taking notes. His hand moved carefully, writing half a sentence for every eight his glazed eyes skimmed over. Next to him, Hermione sat with her copy shut in front of her and her hand in the air. Her eyes were locked on Professor Umbridge, who seemed to be carefully looking the other way. Hermione waved her hand slightly.

Cassy turned to Harry, who had also been watching Hermione's silent struggle, and raised an eyebrow. He did the same in return and gave her a slight shrug. Soon, Neville abandoned his efforts to read too, the tedious text overwhelmed him at last, and he stared at the battle of wills between their friend and the teacher with great interest also. In fact, after five minutes, none of the class were reading, but waiting eagerly to see what Hermione found so important that even she would not follow the lesson plan. It appeared to be enough, for Professor Umbridge soon turned and smiled at her.

'Yes, dear?' she asked, appearing attentive and helpful, as if just having noticed Hermione's surely aching arm.

'Not about the chapter,' replied Hermione. She opened her mouth to continue, but Professor Umbridge did not allow it.

'We are just reading for the time being. Other questions can be asked at the end of class.'

'It's a question about the aims, actually. They make no mention of using magic,' said Hermione confidently before she could be hushed.

Many of the students turned to the bored, as if only just noticing that fact. A small mumble broke out amongst them, but Cassy merely raised an eyebrow again. She could not fathom what Hermione expected to gain from her enquiry. It was quite clear the year was going to be a farce, she had told her so at dinner the night before and she had agreed, so she did not see the need to bring it to attention. She noted that Hermione did not meet with her eyes.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. 'What is your name?'

'Hermione Granger,' replied Hermione calmly.

'Miss Granger, when do you think you will ever need to use defensive spells?' laughed Professor Umbridge, revealing her sharp teeth. 'What do you expect to have to face in my classroom that would ever warrant their use? I understand that the past teachers, with the exception of Professor Quirrel have all been below standard, but to assume you will be likely to be attacked by Dark Creatures every other day is simply absurd.'

Harry's hand was now in the air.

'Professor,' began Hermione.

'Hand up before speaking, Miss Granger,' interjected Professor Umbridge. 'Now, you, what's your name?'

'Dean Thomas,' said Dean from across the room. 'Professor Lupin was actually a great teacher, the best we've ever had, actually.'

This conversation is pointless, thought Cassy. All it was doing was to create uproar. They would not change her mind. She was here to do as the Ministry asked and if her speech the day before was anything to heed, she was very serious about upholding it.

'Now, I am not here to criticise the previous teachers the school has seen, but such dangerous half-breeds should - '

'Who cares if he was a Werewolf? He was still the best teacher we've ever had, hands down,' said Dean flippantly.

Cassy smirked at him and several of the students nodded along.

'Mr Thomas, hand up!' snapped Professor Umbridge. 'Now, I know the Dark Curses you were illegally shown last year has made you worry that something is out there, but there isn't.'

'What about exams?' called Pavarti. 'What do we do then?'

'Hands! And you will perform it in the exam under Ministry controlled conditions only,' said Professor Umbridge, smiling tightly.

'The first time we practise will be in the actual exam?' scoffed Ron. 'That's mental.'

Professor Umbridge turned to reprimand him, but Ron had half-heartedly raised his hand before she reached him.

'Theoretical knowledge, the Ministry believes, is more than sufficient,' she said shortly.

'Only because the Ministry is sufficiently thick-headed,' breathed Cassy resentfully. Harry burst into giggles, but Professor Umbridge ignored them.

'What good is only using it in the exam when it will give us no practice for real life?' asked Harry loudly once he had composed himself again, his hand still high in the air.

Professor Umbridge turned to him, her face fixed in a blank stare and her voice soft. 'My classroom is not real life, Mr Potter.'

'Professor, you will find there have been more attacks in this school than outside of it,' said Cassy. Inwardly, she almost berated herself for not keeping her mouth closed, but if the entire class was burning down the lines of etiquette then she might as well side herself with Harry and be done with it.

'Hand up when speaking in my classroom,' said Professor Umbridge, her voice losing some of the sweetness in her impatience. 'Your name is?'

'Cassiopeia Black,' replied Cassy, meeting the Professor's eyes calmly.

'What do you suppose there is in those streets waiting to attack children, dear?'

'Oh, I don't know. Voldemort, maybe?' said Harry loudly.

The class was startled into silence and Professor Umbridge's wide mouth elongated further into a toothy grin.

'Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter,' she said cheerfully, 'for lying.'

Harry sneered and Cassy pulled his hand down as it automatically reached for attention again. With her eyes fixed on Professor Umbridge's face, she leant over and whispered almost soundlessly in his ear. 'Something is not right. She is too happy. Be silent.'

Harry wriggled his hand from her grasp. She snatched his hand back, urging him to keep still and stay quite. He had said what he had wanted and now that was done.

'Harry, just walk away,' she whispered.

Professor Umbridge stood and folded her hands in front of her. 'You have all been told that You-Know-Who has returned, this is not true.'

'Yes it is. I fought him the night Cedric died!' snapped Harry. He wrestled his arm free from Cassy.

'Mr Potter! Do not raise your voice at a member of staff. Detention.' Professor Umbridge made a poor effort to conceal her pleasure. 'Tomorrow evening and five o'clock sharp in my office. To the rest of you, I assure you it _is_ a lie and the Ministry assures you there is no danger. Any concerns can be reported to me. As a friend, I wish to hear about anyone making you concerned with their vicious tales. For now, everyone back to work.'

If Cassy had not been raised to be composed, she would have snorted at the absurdity. However, she was more preoccupied with grabbing a limb as Harry suddenly stood and strode over to Professor Umbridge's desk, his head high and his eyes narrow. Cassy had missed her chance to force him to sit, he seemed to have been expecting it and side-stepped almost immediately.

'So according to the Ministry, Cedric just dropped dead on his own account that night, did he? He was murdered by Voldemort. He was murdered because Voldemort doesn't care for anyone, he doesn't care who he kills, be them children or otherwise. He killed Cedric because he was in the way, because he did not care for his life at all. He will kill us if we don't defend ourselves.' Harry spoke clearly, almost controlled, if it had not been for the audible wavering of simmering rage. Tightly, his hands were balled into fists at his sides. His back was to the class, unaware of the horrified and curious faces that stared intently at him.

For a moment, Professor Umbridge said nothing. She scribbled on a small piece of pink parchment and then handed it to Harry, who almost crumpled it immediately.

'Take that to Professor McGonagall,' she said calmly.

Hermione let out a hiss and Neville turned in his seat to watch Harry stomp from the room, only turning back once Professor Umbridge emitted a soft cough, instructing them to all return to work.

As Cassy scribbled down half-hearted notes, she tried to piece together the expressions that had followed Harry to the door. There had been pride, amazement, fear, anger, and horror. Very few seemed to value what he had done. It was only Ron and Dean who had been grinning behind their hands in quiet support. Everyone else seemed shocked, if not mortified. Although her eyes kept moving, Cassy did not take in any more words from the chapter. Her mind was filled with darkness, the laughter and cheers, the sound of brass instruments filling the night sky and the cheers of both Durmstrang and Beauxbatons melding with the cheers for Hogwarts. The atmosphere of the Tournament was easy to imagine; the sight that followed was not. She tried to picture Harry returning with the cup, Cedric in his arms, unmoving. She tried to picture what Harry would have called, if he had looked to the crowd, to Professor Dumbledore, or straight at Cedric as she shouted of Voldemort's return that night.

It was suddenly easier to understand why people found it difficult to believe the Dark Lord had returned. The Tournament had been dangerous enough to kill a man as it was, anything could have happened, there were at least one-hundred ways to explain the death without involving the reanimated form of the single darkest wizard of all time. It would be a hard sight to take in, but they had had long enough. Their house-mates and those in their year had had long enough to know Harry to know he would never lie, but those in the world would think he was mad with reason. She too, expected she would think him odd if she had never met him.

Cassy found Harry outside the common room before dinner. She had arrived to drop off her bag, hoping to see him before he was forced to shut down at the soon to be unyielding stares and comments in the Great Hall.

'This year is going to kill me,' he said.

She smiled grimly. 'You say that every year and you have survived so far.'

'Yeah, but I've got a feeling about this one,' he said, his voice flat and his lips pressed together thinly.

Cassy's smile widened into a sarcastic smirk. Harry was quite right, the year was going to be the most trying and taxing of their time if the first day was any standard.

* * *

><p><strong>Whoops, longer than expected. I have a feeling most of these chapters are going to be longer than the previous ones simply out of what I have to get in them. The little fights will be quite common for the next few chapters. I didn't realise how angry Harry was through the year until I read the book again recently, so while Cassy changes things, I don't think she would impact on that too much, especially when her own problems are present too. <strong>

**I've started giving the plot of year seven some serious thought now and it's made me quite sad, haha. I usually avoid reading that book because I don't like to think of it as the end of it all. **

**For a note, I certainly enjoy writing the latter half of this year more. In the actual series, the fifth book is not my favourite because so much of it is setting up Umbridge, conflict there and Harry's anger, quite frankly I find it a bit tedious. If you do to, please stick with me until I can shift beyond that point. I have substituted a lot of the direct narration on it out for Cassy's own issues, but that can be a bit emotionally draining too, so it's split up across many chapters. I hope it makes sense when reading, because they all add together to explain exactly what she is going through as a major character arc. (I like to have one at least every two years of this story. Second, third, and fifth are the big ones). If it gets a bit unclear, let me know!**

**Thanks!**


	10. Cold shoulder

C. M. Black: Eyes of an Owl

**Chapter X: Cold shoulder**

'You must be careful, Harry,' said Cassy imploringly after dinner.

The common room had settled into a low murmur of activity. For many, the first busy day after the long summer had tired them, forcing them to slink into nearby seats to converse lazily, or even to an early retirement. The fire crackled softly, adding an extra layer of noise to mask the hushed conversation.

'I should be able to tell people the truth,' said Harry, frowning.

'That will cause trouble and the more trouble you are in the less likely people will be to support you because they will fear that you will also cause them grief,' disagreed Cassy calmly.

Not for the first time, Harry scoffed. 'I don't care.'

'Then why did you become so offended by Seamus' questions?' she asked coolly.

Harry was silent.

'Listen, I believe that Professor Umbridge is only stationed here to keep an eye on the Headmaster and you; she is to ensure that the truth does not become a common belief. She will try to discredit you as she did in class today. You need to be careful not to draw more attention from her,' said Cassy carefully. Her eyes remained fixed on Harry's face, monitoring each flicker of emotion and every twitch of muscle as she spoke. All ready on thin ice, she had no desire to push too hard, but he needed to hear it, yet she could all ready tell it was not appreciated.

'You sound like McGonagall,' he said flatly. 'She told me to watch myself too.'

Cassy raised a pointed eyebrow and Harry shifted in his seat. He no longer slouched, but leant away against the back of the plush, scarlet sofa. The fire reflected on his round spectacles, his eyes obscured. Cassy did not need to see them to read his emotion. She knew him too well by then to miss the way his shoulders had tensed and his jaw set, if just slightly. He was annoyed and offended.

'Don't start,' he said sharply. 'I should be able to publicise his return, I owe it to Cedric and to everyone to let them know what they will be up against. I don't want you telling me to stay quiet. You should be beside me to support me and helping me spread the word of Voldemort's return! I expected you to, to be honest. I expected you to be a good friend.'

Cassy said nothing for a time. She stared, stunned at his words, but even more so at his audacity. Slowly, her lips began to draw back and Harry did the same, readying himself for a fight that Cassy was not going to allow to occur.

'If you were a good friend you would stop taking this anger out on everyone else – hold your tongue, Potter, I'm talking. I expected snappy comebacks and sarcasm, but this anger of yours is constant and it is unbearable. I want to warn people as much as you, but I am trying to support you like an adult, not a petulant child akin to your own behaviour. Have you ever considered there are other ways to persuade people of the truth? Ways beside landing everyone you know in detention with a hag from the Ministry writing reports back on who needs to be kept under supervision? Have you not considered that will harm your cause more? No. No, you have not, because you are wrapped up in your own pity party and cannot notice anything outside of your own hardship!'

Cassy was on her feet by the end of her speech. Sharply, her words hissed, leaving her tongue with such rage and fire that Harry had no room to settle on anything but utter shock. There was no waiting to see his reply. Cassy had no time for a battle, her mind was all ready full and her nerves too stretched to be bothering with any such efforts that night. Swiftly, she turned on her heel and passed the faces of all the students who remained blissfully, and thankfully so, unaware of the spat of the two most undesirable members of the Gryffindor house.

She said nothing to Neville and Hermione, who were still working diligently on their new homework in the far corner. Her feet glided up the steps and across the dormitory to her bed. She flung the curtains all across. As soon as she curled up in the darkness, Cassy no longer bothered to hide the scowl that had been trying to ebb its way onto her face.

How dare he, she thought scathingly, how dare Harry speak to me like that?

He had never done so before. Even at his angriest, Harry had never accused her of being a poor friend, although Cassy had often privately antagonised that she was over the years to all of her friends. She had explained she had wanted him to remain out of sight and it was obvious why, so she could not fathom why it was such an impossible concept for him to grasp. It was as if Harry was seeking to attention, almost going out of his way to cause havoc everywhere he went, from his intense temper to his reckless actions in class. No one at Grimmauld Place had failed to notice his distance since he had arrived. No one was going to have missed the tale of his outburst in class by tomorrow either.

She wanted to be scornful and ignore him, but a calmer, more rational side of her brain told her that her speech was too much, too harsh, and that it was enough all ready. Rather than guilt, Cassy felt resignation. Harry was not a diplomat and nor would he likely ever be. His greatest conflict had been with Voldemort, or his relatives before that, something he did not need to rely on public opinion for. He had no idea what to do and Cassy did; she could help him if he would let her. He needed her advice.

He was angry all the time. She was angry all the time, waiting for something else to go wrong. Things with Harry were all ready unsteady that she had half a mind to confess the feelings she had been harbouring for almost a year now and be done with it. It could not get any worse that it all ready was unless he decided to cut ties entirely and even in her anger she could not see that happening. Harry was too nice. Perhaps then she would get over him and move on with her life if he out rightly rejected her.

Sighing, Cassy withdrew her Potions textbook, keen not to waste the entire evening.

* * *

><p>The following day, Harry did not mention the argument. It was as though nothing had been mentioned, or it would have been had Harry's tone not become cool and curt when speaking to her. He did not avoid her, or ignore her, but merely spoke through her, maintaining discussion with the group by never directly conversing unless needed and Cassy took no notice. An irritable beast reared in her chest, but it was nothing she had not been keeping at bay for the last three months. She had become quite adept at it by then.<p>

In the morning, before anyone else had risen, Neville had caught her by the fire, his hands twisting his tie into a clumsy knot as he walked. His eyes raked the surfaces of the common room. Hermione had begun knitting socks and hats for the House-elves. He spoke shortly and nodded at Cassy's affronted expression. Apparently, he had thought to tell Hermione himself that they could not be freed by others than their master and as they technically worked for the Headmaster, it was a useless ambition, but Neville did not have the heart.

Cassy pursed her lips. She made a mental note to call upon Plum and Kitsy later. While she was not worried they would leave her service – she knew she would have a fight on her hands if she tried – she did fear their unhappiness at finding hidden clothing in unsuspecting places. If they were to take offence, then Cassy would have to calm them and Plum was not fond of Hermione as it was.

Cassy smiled grimly half-an-hour later as Hermione joyfully exclaimed all of her knitting had vanished. Long before her fuzzy-haired friend had emerged, Cassy had decided not to tell her. It would only cause her to become upset and she believed herself to have enough issues, without the accusation she was undermining Hermione's Civil Rights efforts again. If there was even one elf who wanted them, then she was going to leave them be for now.

Transfiguration and Charms were much like the same lesson that day. Half of it each was spent stressing the importance of the OWL exams in moving into careers in later life. They were the most basic of Wizarding Achievements and were vital to be able to continue study. Failure to achieve the required grade that year would limit their choices of NEWT exams in seventh-year.

No had appeared enthused by the news. To most, June seemed an age away and seventh-year was even further, an unimaginable and unreachable goal to the class of fifteen-year-olds who had slowly begun to waver in their attention by midway through the speech. Cassy eyed the board, reading the instructions of the Vanishing Charm Professor McGonagall had pre-emptively written on the blackboard behind her. She had no interest in the finer points of the importance of the exams; it was nothing she had not known since she was five. Her life had been spent preparing for them, ready to move above and beyond the average level of work and on to something greater. Anticipation rose at the thought of moving onto sixth-year work and what she could possibly do beyond it. Perhaps something more challenging, she hoped, watching Professor McGonagall clap her hands together and begin the actual lesson half-an-hour late. Cassy hoped for something difficult, something to make her think and work. Two days into the year and she was all ready bored, restless even, discontent with school, or perhaps it was everyone else around her.

Cassy did not bloom into eagerness in any of her classes. Charms was merely a revision of last year, following an almost word for word recount of what Professor McGonagall had said prior, and in Care of Magical Creatures they focused on Bowtruckles, which Cassy had seen before. They were tiny tree-guardians, their skin dark and rough like bark, with long nails used to fight and gauge. It was almost interesting, watching them rip the shells off the woodlice as they feasted on the pot Professor Grubbly-Plank had set out for them. Yet, she was not Hagrid and it was nothing Cassy had not heard in childhood bedtime stories of the dangers of misadventure in the forest.

Cassy spent most of her lesson making slow notes. Occasionally, she glanced over to Draco, watching him laugh easily with his friends.

It would be wonderful if he was to be covered in those woodlice, the Bowtruckles would go mad, thought Cassy absently. Their little claws would poke and pinch.

'You look vindictive,' remarked Neville beside her.

Cassy turned to look at him, only to then realise how far her eyes had narrowed. She wiped the smirk off her face and went back to her notes. Professor Grubbly-Plank called out another name to come closer to see the tree-guardian in turn.

Harry slipped into the space on the ground beside Hermione. A deep frown was on his face. Cassy pretended not to notice.

'I am worried something has happened to Hagrid,' he said, looking between them.

Cassy turned over her notes as though she had not heard him.

'What do you mean?' asked Neville, concerned.

'Malfoy said that maybe Hagrid has got himself injured, that he was messing with something too big for him,' said Harry, hushed and alarmed.

Too big? Thought Cassy in interest. Lucius and Narcissa were doing an exceptionally poor job of keeping Draco's tongue tied if it was the case.

'Oh, don't think about it, Harry,' said Hermione. 'He is just winding you up as always by pretending he knows what is going on. You reacting will only make him do it more.'

Cassy knew the only way to deal with Draco was to make him think he was ill-informed. Not only would it make him angry, but it would make him second guess himself. His teasing would get worse for a time, but simultaneously more desperate until it crumbled beneath him. It was how she had always won their little fights as children, each time a birthday present was hidden, or a mystery day trip planned, he would pretend to know better and Cassy would merely lie better. She would giggle to herself each time his back was turned, knowing full well he was pouting at his mother to be told as soon as she would leave.

That fond thought was broken off quickly.

From the side of her eyes, she cast a long, flat stare at Draco. He continued to laugh while he eyed the back of Harry's head. Beside him, Crabbe and Goyle guffawed with laughter at something he had said and Parkinson looped her arm through his and smirked nastily. Draco did not once even glance at Cassy. His eyes remained fixed on Harry only when he ventured in their direction.

It might have been the lack of her own conversation that allowed Cassy to hear the fierce and renewed discussion on what had really happened in June in the maze on the way to Herbology. Fiery words were spat louder than the day before. Questions arose on how Harry could expect anyone to believe his tale again and again all through the halls they walked. Cassy waited. She waited for Harry to explode and lash out, but he did not. It was as if he had not heard them and Cassy considered it impossible. She might have believed it though, had she not caught sight of his trembling fists as they lined up.

The doors finally opened up, allowing a fresh burst of whispers the flood down the hall. The mix of students did not look the least bit ashamed when they all turned to stare at Harry. Although many hands rose to hide their mouths, making it impossible for Cassy to read their whispers, few thought to look away. Cassy scowled openly at them as they passed, enticing a slight bit of embarrassment from a few, their heads ducked.

'I believe Harry Potter,' came a light, airy voice from the middle of the crowd. 'I think You-Know-Who has returned.'

Through the throng of fourth-years, Cassy spotted Luna. Her hair was tied in a messy knot on the top of her head and beside her was Ginny, her chin held high as if daring anyone to comment on what her friend had said. The pair of them smiled when they passed.

'That hardly helped things at all,' said Hermione in an indignant whisper.

'Well, it's nice to have some open support,' said Harry blandly.

'Well, I believe Harry too,' came the voice of Ernie Macmillan as they filed inside. 'My parents have always been loyal followers of Dumbledore.'

His words enticed a renewed mumbling. Several faces straightened, their laughter and teasing forgotten, including that of Lavender and Seamus. Lavender caught Cassy's eye and quickly looked away. Her resolve had been weak since the first day. She had crumbled almost immediately when Pavarti expressed her own resolve. Seamus, however, stared on in defiance. His moment of remorse was only an instant. Yet, Cassy found herself wondering how different it would be if Harry just apologised for insulting his mother. She could think of other things Harry could do with apologising for to.

He had not done anything of the sort by the time dinner rolled around that evening. Neville was cheerfully complimenting Luna on her support, but Harry was hardly listening. His food was on his plate and gone from it in a minute. His eyes flicked down to his watch that Neville had brought him for his birthday.

'Is it time for your detention?' asked Hermione anxiously.

'Yeah,' sighed Harry.

'Good luck,' said Neville with a strained smile. 'How bad can it be, really?'

'It's not like I've never had detention before. I just don't want to spend an extra hour with her,' grumbled Harry.

'No one wants to see her face for a moment, let alone extra, but you dug your own grave,' added Ginny, mashing her baked potato.

Harry turned and gave her a flat look, but Ginny merely shrugged.

'Well, you did.'

'Quite spectacularly,' agreed Cassy under her breath.

Hermione elbowed her. She nearly kicked her back under the table, yet found she did not have the effort.

'Thanks, Ginny,' snapped Harry. He picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder, before he strode from the hall, vanishing towards the marble staircases.

'I don't think he agreed with you, Ginny,' piped Luna when they all returned to their meals.

'Well, it's true,' defended Ginny. 'He needs to stop taking out his temper on everyone else. It's not like we're the ones spreading he is a liar. Have none of you tried to mention it?'

'I have,' answered Cassy shortly.

'Is that why he's ignoring you?' asked Hermione. She frowned and paused.

Cassy sighed. 'He said I was not being vocal enough in my support and so I was a bad friend. I told him his behaviour now should make him think of who is a bad friend.'

'Oh, Cassy,' groaned Hermione into her hands.

'So, that went well, did it?' asked Neville with a grimace.

'Was that all you said?' questioned Hermione. She ducked her head into Cassy's eye line when the other refused to look up. 'Cassy!'

'I may have called him a petulant child and accused him of being wrapped up in his own pity party,' said Cassy after a moment of silence.

No one spoke for a time, until a low, grimacing 'ooh' came from Ginny and Hermione whined again into her hands. Neville bit his lip and Luna had raised her eyebrows a fraction, but soon forgot it in favour of the dessert that appeared to replace the hot dinner foods.

'Usually you are so tactful,' said Neville.

'I lost my temper,' admitted Cassy, embarrassed. 'I was sick of him being so sharp towards me when I have been doing my best all summer. It is as though he switched when he did not need me anymore. It is infuriating.'

'I was going to say something myself when he got back from detention,' said Hermione. 'I was beginning to lose my patience too, but mine wasn't going to be so blunt.'

'Yes, well, I don't regret it,' said Cassy. She dropped her fork down onto her plate and swung her legs over the edge of the bench. There was nothing left for her to say and mentioning the conversation only served to renew her irritation with Harry. She looked down at Neville. 'Are you coming to do your homework as asked earlier?'

'Yeah,' agreed Neville; he quickly stood, as if fearful she would leave without him otherwise.

'Me and Luna were going to do our own in the library later. We might see you there,' said Ginny, reaching over to pick up a slice of Victoria Sponge cake.

Cassy looked expectantly at Hermione.

'I think I'm going to do some more knitting. The homework is easy enough, so I'll do it tomorrow instead. I want to free as many elves as possible,' announced Hermione.

Cassy stared at her friend's gleeful smile and any urge to tell her it was futile died once more. 'Okay, well we will see you later. Come, Neville.'

Neville, despite being taller than Cassy, was forced to jog to fall into step with her quick stride. They exited into the entrance hall, which was flecked with the occasional body of lingering students and the mingling of other houses up and down the stairs. The numbers thinned the higher they climbed. It was not until they entered a completely vacated corridor that Neville dared to peer down at Cassy.

'Are you all right?' he asked.

'I'm fine,' she replied.

'I don't just mean about your argument with Harry. You've been bit off lately,' he said, ignoring her response.

'What do you mean "off"?' she said with genuine curiosity.

'Well,' began Neville, as he pulled at the seams of his cloak nervously, 'you don't talk as much as you used to and when you do it doesn't last very long. Sometimes you talk about odd things.'

'Such as?' enquired Cassy in a low drawl. She had been talking fine, she assured herself. She had not noticed herself ignoring the conversation, as much as she wished she could. She spent more time alone, but that was merely by choice. Too long in Grimmauld Place had driven her half mad and so her relief was to come from the school, where she could slip away and sit for hours in silence in class, left with a task and her own mind. At least, it was to be a relief if Harry did not insist on sharing his permanent rain cloud with the rest of them. It almost sounded insulting; it was as if Neville was accusing her of being unsociable and that role had all ready been filled by another with anger issues.

'I mean like those books of yours. You shouldn't be reading them, they're dangerous,' he said, his voice became firmer.

'If you knew I was reading them so I understand what we will be facing, would you still be inclined to fight me?' questioned Cassy calmly. Her tone was light, as if commenting on the weather or complimenting a dog. As she suspected, Neville hesitated.

'I still don't like it, Cassy,' he said eventually. 'Those types of things are always bad news.'

Cassy did not reply. The remainder of the walk to the library was conducted in silence and it was not until they had seated themselves at the table that Cassy spoke again. Her fingers trailed over the textbook, listing off the key paragraphs and where to find them, what to include what was irrelevant. Neville scribbled down her words at the bottom of his Potion notes of the lesson, which were sparse at best and non-existent entirely in places. Without complaint, Cassy passed him her own notes. They were long and comprehensive, perhaps too much for Neville to take in, but in his determination to at least pass his Potion OWL, he spent the next half-an-hour reading them thoroughly anyway.

Slowly, he worked through Professor Snape's essay. Despite being tempted to help as she had for years now, Cassy allowed him to work through it himself and only intervened when asked. She considered it healthy if Neville design his own work ethic, but long since engrained habits of carefully correcting his mistakes still had her peering over her own essay occasionally to monitor his progress.

Her own Care of Magical Creature essay was nearing completion when a small cough sounded from the shelves behind. With no urgency, Cassy turned in her seat, noting that Neville had widened his eyes at the person all ready.

Astoria stood with her hands hung easily by her sides. No attention was paid to Neville, there was no unease at his presence; in fact, it appeared as if Astoria had not registered he was there at all. For that second, with her face calm and her eyes trained solely on Cassy, Cassy considered her to be very much like her older sister Daphne for the first time since they had met.

'Can I speak with you?' asked Astoria.

'You can,' responded Cassy.

Neither moved for a time, before Astoria frowned and her shoulders slumped.

'May I speak with you?' she asked again.

'Yes, you may,' said Cassy, rising from her seat with a pleasant smile that Astoria merely rolled her eyes at. 'Neville, I will be back in a minute, okay?'

'Yeah,' he said, unsure.

Turning back to Astoria, Cassy rolled out her arm to sign for her to lead the way. Astoria did and the pair walked down many winding aisles of the library, passing through more and narrower openings as they entered the very centre. She stopped suddenly. Her shoulder leant against the shelf, something Cassy could not achieve through her inferior height, and her arms crossed across her chest. Astoria's eyes did not rake up and down the aisle, nor peer through the books into either side. She had all ready planned the spot for the conversation; she had all ready checked it was secure and Cassy found herself crossing her own arms in reluctance at hearing what she might want.

'How are you?' asked Astoria.

'Fine,' said Cassy shortly. She batted it away as nothing more than a courtesy question, an opener to an unpleasant conversation.

'What exactly had occurred between you and Draco?' she then asked, without missing a beat.

There we go, thought Cassy flatly. Her expression did not change, having all ready expected such a question the moment they stepped deeper than the Potion isle.

'I understand that you have feelings for my cousin, Astoria, but that does not make it any of your business,' said Cassy coolly.

Astoria scowled. 'What about us being friends? I don't just spend time with you because I fancy your cousin.'

'But you used to,' replied Cassy pointedly.

'Yes,' snapped Astoria, 'and you used to be nice to me even then, yet here you are being a jerk. I just wanted to know what happened.'

'I'm sorry. I have had a few fights in the past few days. My temper is short,' Cassy sighed. 'What makes you think anything is wrong?'

Astoria stared down at her critically for a few seconds. Then, she pursed her lips. 'Draco has been talking about you more than usual in the common room. Normally, he just ridicules your friends, but... sometimes he mentions you too now.' For the first time, Astoria almost looked uneasy for being so blunt.

There was only a slight sinking in Cassy's stomach.

'We had an argument,' said Cassy, the half-lie slipped easily from her mouth. She had prepared a speech in case a friend should ask, but she supposed they could hardly tell the difference. Draco had never pretended to be close and Cassy had rarely defended him back. It was as if their reluctant acknowledgement of their relationship had finally become the flat hate that was expected of them. Cassy was ashamed to admit she was genuinely surprised it had happened. For all of his complaints, she had at least thought Draco cared somewhat about her.

'A big one then,' said Astoria, frowning.

'It was simply because I did not go to live with him following the funeral,' said Cassy, her voice sinking sternly. 'He seems to think it was my doing, when I really had no say.'

Astoria scowled deeply. 'What a terrible thing to be angry over! You have enough to deal with, let alone him adding to it by being such a prat.'

'Just ignore it,' said Cassy. Her lips turned up at the edges as she did her best to smile. Painfully aware she was failing, Cassy let it slide again. 'Draco will only do it more if he thinks he is getting attention from it.'

'Boys are stupid,' sighed Astoria.

Aren't they just, thought Cassy.

'Everyone has the capacity to be stupid,' she responded instead.

'Yes, well,' scoffed Astoria, 'if he thinks it's okay to hassle you over that then he has another thing coming.'

'I am older than you, you know,' laughed Cassy. A genuine smile tugged at her mouth for the first time that day.

Astoria stared down at her appraisingly. 'Yes, but I am a Slytherin and you are not, so I have to assume you are fulfilling your stupidity capacity.'

'How rude!' exclaimed Cassy, grinning.

'On the topic of rudeness, actually,' said Astoria, as if just having remembered, 'apparently you have been speaking to one Blaise Zambini, the rudest boy I know.'

'Is he now? How have you heard that, anyway?' asked Cassy curiously.

'Daphne told me. She said he mentioned you after she pestered him about where he went on the train. They are quite close and Daphne knows we speak, so she asked me whilst assuming you would have told me,' admitted Astoria.

'Oh? Did you not think it was risky to tell her we speak? She does not exactly seem to think much of me,' said Cassy, one eyebrow raised high on her forehead.

'She took one of my letters during summer because she wanted to know who I was writing to when we had just had a dinner party to see my friends at,' said Astoria, her easy tone suggesting her sister's nosiness was a common occurrence. 'Besides, it is not that she doesn't think much of you, it is just that she is hard to impress, much like Blaise. It's why they get on so well, I think.'

'Brilliant. I have spoken to Zambini, but besides that there is nothing to be done about Dr – Malfoy.' The name felt horribly bitter. 'Thank-you for the concern though. He can ridicule me and people can listen, but it is not the most important aspect of my life right now.'

Astoria hesitated and Cassy's eyes sharpened instantly.

'What is it?' she asked.

'You see, it's not only what Draco has been saying, but rather to who…'

Cassy hissed.

* * *

><p><strong>As promised another update! <strong>

**Also as promised, more Cassy and Harry fighting. Cassy's not dealing with things well. Things are mounting up for her and her limited emotional range is in over drive. ;) This chapter sets up a bit, but is more a connection to the next. **

**I had a comment on Cassy's feelings towards Harry being sudden, I apologise if they read as such. I knew when she realised in fourth-year, but there is a large possibility it wasn't that obvious to anyone else. She started having an idea of them at Christmas when she heard Ginny and Harry were going to the ball together and I mention them occasionally afterwards, although usually through her actions, so while I know she would be fed up with it by now, I realised they may appear suddenly thrown in there. However, romance is full speed ahead this year and by that I mean it will progress at the same speed anything else does and will be trundling along in the background for a while yet. **

**The reviews have been lovely so far.**

**Thanks!**


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